


Better All The Time

by ScribbleWiggy



Series: The 'It Gets Worse!' Universe (Earth-293156) [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Do you change the rating for one chapter?, F/M, Harry Osborn is a good bro, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Original Fiction, POV Alternating, Peter Parker in Love, Screwy format, Sort Of, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, also sort of, no beta we implode like asgard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 98
Words: 265,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbleWiggy/pseuds/ScribbleWiggy
Summary: The D&D is transcripts. The story outside the campaign exists in narrative form. Superheros can have fun playing tabletop role playing games, but they have real lives, too. The "It Gets Worse!" Universe is about to get better.





	1. A Break-In is Not a Fun Reason to Cut a Honeymoon Short

**Author's Note:**

> This story canonically takes place in the same universe as, and is canonically the sequel to, "It Gets Worse!: The Forgotten Prince", which features a D&D campaign DMed by Peter Parker and participated in by Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Ned Leeds, and Bruce Banner. You don't need to have read "It Gets Worse!: The Forgotten Prince" in order to read (and hopefully enjoy!) this fic, but it is recommended to understand established relationships and some references made to the campaign itself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Nat just want to finish their honeymoon. Is that too much to ask?

**August 30th, 2023 - Somewhere Near Saint-Benin-des-Bois, France - 3:12 AM**

Nine days into wedded bliss, and eight days into his honeymoon, which was supposed to last fourteen altogether, Dr. Bruce Banner woke at three in the morning to the sound of his phone ringing. Next to him in the king-sized bed of their rented suite at a tiny, bed and breakfast type cottage in the French countryside, Natasha rolled over, already wide awake. 

“Who is it?” she asked, sitting up. 

Bruce did the same, rubbing at his eyes with one hand while blindly groping for his phone with his other. He managed to grab it, without looking, and lifted it to his ear, yawning out a “H’lo?” 

“Doc,” Steve Rogers’s voice greeted from the other end of the call. “Sorry to wake you; I know it’s the middle of the night there, but… we might have a problem.”

Bruce instantly felt more awake. “What sort of problem?” he asked, lowering the phone and putting it on speaker so that Nat could listen in, too. 

“Someone broke into Stark Tower,” Steve responded. “The top five floors, which, in the original Tower, were the -”

“The residence floors, yeah,” Bruce interrupted. “What happened?”

“That’s the problem,” Steve said, and Bruce glanced at Natasha, an eyebrow raised. “Nothing was missing, or anything like that. The place was just… trashed. But there’s no evidence of anyone using the elevators or stairwells to get up that high, and the only person who has the codes to those floors is Tony, anyway.” 

“Someone hacked in?” Natasha asked. 

“We don’t think so,” Steve replied. “The windows on the lowest floor that was ransacked were smashed, like someone had broken in that way.”

The unspoken ‘but’ at the end of that sentence pounded in Bruce’s head. No one in the world would have been able to get up that high, smash in through the windows. Not unless they had some sort of technology to do it for them. 

He shook the thought off. They could talk more about it when Bruce and Natasha returned to New York. 

“How’s Tony doing?” he asked Steve, watching as Natasha climbed out of the bed and started to pull on clothes. 

Steve exhaled. “He’s Tony. You know how he deals with things like this.”

“But he didn’t, like, fly off to Egypt or anything?” Bruce clarified. 

“No,” Steve said, and Bruce relaxed. “He’s just been moping around the Compound, really, and pretending that it isn’t a big deal, since nothing was taken.” 

“All right,” Bruce sighed, slipping his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbing at his eyes again. “We’re heading back, then. We should be there in twelve hours, give or take.”

“I’m sorry to do this to the two of you,” Steve said, and Bruce glanced at Natasha, who was once again looking towards the phone, a pair of leggings slid halfway up her legs. 

“Something was going to happen,” Bruce said after a moment of silence. “We just… had to wait for when, I guess. See you soon, Steve.”

“Fly safe,” Steve replied, and the call ended. 

Bruce placed his phone down on the bedside table, and looked at Nat. She’d finished shrugging her way into an oversized t-shirt, and was now tossing the minimal amount of luggage that they’d brought with them into the single suitcase that had carried it all. 

“We’ll have to make up for this,” he told her, and Natasha merely shook her head. 

“We can think about it once we figure out who broke into the Tower,” she told him, tossing a pair of jeans and a shirt in his direction. “Clothes. We’ll need to switch our flight.”

“Should’ve asked Steve to tell Tony to send the jet,” Bruce replied, standing. He tugged the pants on, stumbling a little. Like magic, Nat stood beside him, gripping his arm to steady him, and he smiled at her. “Sorry.”

“Clumsy,” she replied, smiling back, her eyes bright. They exchanged a brief kiss, and she moved away again. 

Bruce managed to get his clothing on without actually falling over, and he ducked into the bathroom to examine himself for a moment. Graying black hair, more wrinkles everyday… yeah, that was him. He tousled his hair for a moment, trying to get it to look at least somewhat decent, and decided maybe he needed to get it cut soon. 

Natasha appeared in the mirror behind him. God, she was beautiful, Bruce thought, studying her reflection as she nudged him out of the way in order to brush her teeth. He accepted his own toothbrush from her without argument, smiling to himself. 

Five minutes later, they descended the staircase of the cottage to the lower level, and headed outside. Bruce placed the suitcase into the backseat of their rental car. Natasha slid into the passenger side seat, twirling the key around her finger. 

“Why don’t you drive?” Bruce complained through the window, and Natasha merely snorted in response. He sighed, but walked around to get in behind the wheel nonetheless. 

Nine days into wedded bliss, eight into their honeymoon, Dr. and Mrs. Bruce Banner pulled away from their honeymoon cottage in a rented car, driving along the wrong side of the road, the right side of the road for France, in the direction of Limoges Airport. The headlights of the vehicle flashed against the pavement, the only light in the darkened environment. 

Bruce, absurdly, was reminded of the many different jobs he and Natasha had taken on after New York. One in particular stood out to him, one that had involved Steve and Clint, too. It had happened around the Christmas that Tony had gone missing, and instead of being able to help find him (they’d been forbidden from getting involved by Fury and SHIELD; Bruce still did not understand why), they’d been sent to someplace in the midwest to deal with a pretty serious case of illegal weapon production and sex trafficking. The sex trafficking part had only come up after they’d reached the location and done some scouting. Natasha had not spoken a word the entire time, except in soft tones to the frightened teenage girls they discovered trapped in an old barn.

After they had dealt with it all, including gotten several of the girls to a hospital for examination, the four of them had driven to a motel in the middle of the night. All of them had been exhausted, with Steve being the exception to the rule, and they’d conked out in the shared hotel room almost immediately. Always an early riser, however, Bruce had been awake with the sun, and he’d found Natasha up as well. 

On some unspoken agreement, they’d driven to the nearest fast food place serving breakfast, and brought back enough food for the four of them. During the drive to the food joint and back, Bruce had wondered if he should bring up how Natasha had acted around the girls, how sensitive and empathetic she’d seemed to be, but had eventually decided against it. 

Days later, after Tony had been found, Natasha had brought it up herself. 

“That wasn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with that sort of thing,” she had said, finding him in the lab one morning, alone. Bruce had immediately set aside whatever project he’d been working on to pay attention; he knew that it was unlike Natasha to talk about things like this, and especially unlike her to talk about them with him. Clint, of course, Steve, he could see, but not him. Not the monster that had attacked her. 

She didn’t go into much detail, but it was enough that Bruce was able to understand that she had experience in dealing with trauma victims of that nature. Thinking back, he thought that, during that conversation, when he’d seen a fire in Natasha’s eyes, overshadowed only slightly by the obvious sympathy she had for the girls she’d helped… that was when he’d begun to fall in love with her. 

Back in the present, sitting next to her in a rental car nine days out from their wedding, Bruce didn’t think he had ever loved anyone else as much as he did her. Without saying anything, he placed his hand on top of the center console, palm up. An invitation. 

Natasha accepted it, sliding her own hand on top of his. Bruce smiled to himself, but kept his eyes on the road. The last thing they needed was to get into an accident. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” he finally said, and Natasha exhaled. 

“They’re worth more than a penny,” she said, and Bruce’s smile widened. 

“A dime, then,” he said. He squeezed her hand. “What’s going through your mind?” 

“I’m thinking that a person who was able to break windows on one of the uppermost floors of Stark Tower either has a lot of resources, or is incredibly smart,” Natasha replied. “Worst case scenario, they’re both.” 

“Do you think they attacked the Tower as an assault on Tony alone?” Bruce asked her. “If they wanted to get at all of us, I feel like they would have broken into the Compound.” 

Natasha shook her head. “They must know that the Compound is max security. The likelihood of them breaking in there would have been too low, even if they did want to get to all of us.” She paused, frowning. “But none of us ever actually lived in this building. I don’t understand that part of it. Maybe it was just the principle, the message behind attacking those specific floors.”

“Some sort of terrorist group?” Bruce said, thinking out loud. “Some anti-superhero people, maybe?” 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Natasha said. “I don’t want to speculate until I can see the damage for myself, maybe get ahold of some security footage.” She paused. “Though I doubt Stark even has cameras on those floors. They’re not used for anything in particular.” 

That was true. When the new Tower had been situated in order to work for S.I., Tony had suggested that the top five floors, excluding the penthouse, be made into living suites, similar to the original Tower. “Just in case,” Tony had said, as though anyone who needed a space to live didn’t have the Compound as first choice.

Aloud, Bruce sighed. “There should be something to look at,” he said. “Tony’s nothing if not thorough.”

Natasha made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. Bruce raised their hands off of the console, so that he could kiss the back of hers. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Maybe this person just needed to get it out of their system, and nothing else is going to happen.”

“You and your optimism,” Natasha said with a small smile. 

“Someone has to have some,” Bruce replied. “God knows the rest of you people are pessimistic enough not to ever accomplish anything without at least _ one _ person looking on the bright side.”

“Then I guess we’re lucky to have you, aren’t we?” Natasha asked him. 

“Yeah, you are,” Bruce agreed. Nat chuckled, and he pressed down on the gas a bit, picking up the car’s speed. He suddenly didn’t care so much that their honeymoon had been cut short. His friends needed him, needed his help. Needed _ their _ help. They needed to get to New York as quickly as they could. 

**Stark Tower - Broadway & W. 58th St., New York, NY, USA - 9:52 AM**

Tony Stark examined the paperwork sitting before him on his desk, not really reading it. He exhaled, quietly, and leaned back in his chair, giving up trying to be productive, and turned to look out the window behind him. New York glittered in morning sunlight beneath him, and he smiled slightly. Did he miss California sometimes? Sure. But New York was home; it always had been. 

“Mr. Stark?” Cheri’s voice came through the phone on the corner of his desk. He smirked, and reached over to touch the button that would allow him to speak to her. 

“What’s up?” 

“Dr. Banner’s here,” Cheri responded. “He’s asking to come up.”

“All right,” Tony said, and he leaned back in his chair again, looking once more toward the window. Fucking Steve. He’d told him not to call Bruce and Nat, not to disrupt their honeymoon. Of course he hadn’t listened. Now Tony would have to feel guilty, on top of everything else. Fucking fantastic. 

He’d been alerted to the break in around seven o’clock last night, after most everyone had gone home. Immediately, he’d flown to the Tower from the Compound, only to find that the floors that the Avengers had never actually occupied in this Tower completely ransacked. Tony was relieved that nothing on any of the lower levels had been touched; in fact, the only reason anyone had known about the break in in the first place was because someone had stepped on glass, down on the street, and had looked up, spotting the broken window. 

Tony closed his eyes. They’d destroyed things, but they hadn’t taken anything, nor had they bothered any of the areas where business was done. R&D was left alone. HR was left alone. Their records department hadn’t been touched. S.I. had escaped unscathed. So what had this person, who’d managed to break into the uppermost floors of Stark Tower, wanted to accomplish? 

He had no idea, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to bother finding out, either. So the place had been destroyed. It wasn’t as though anyone was living there. No one ever _ had _ lived there. So what did it matter? 

What he _ wanted _ to know was how whoever had broken in had gotten up as high as they did, to crash through the window that they’d come in through. Some kind of hovering device? Climbing equipment? It could have been numerous things, and Tony needed to find out exactly _ what. _

There was a knock on his office door, and then it opened to reveal Bruce, looking a little apprehensive, on top of concerned. Tony rolled his eyes, and stood up from behind his desk, walking around it to get to him. 

“Hey,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, I told Steve not to call you.”

“It’s fine,” Bruce said. “Of course we’d come back for something like this.” He gestured. “Nat’s down on those floors now, looking around with Steve’s help. You didn’t find anything when you first looked?” 

Tony shrugged. “Shredded bedding, smashed mirrors, the doors on the fridge had been pulled off. Y’know, your usual ransacking of a living space.”

Bruce furrowed his brow. “Tony, you don’t have to act so casual about this,” he said, and Tony scoffed, walking back towards his desk. “The Tower was broken into. It’s a big deal.”

“Why?” Tony asked. “Damages? They didn’t steal anything. They didn’t even touch the parts of the Tower where S.I. operates from. There is no reason for me to be upset. The only thing I want to know is how they got high enough on the building to break in from where they did. Maybe we can start trying to figure _ that _ out.” 

Bruce waited for a moment, watching as he moved back around his desk and sat down in his chair again, hanging his head between his hands. Perhaps it was time to change the topic. 

“Cheri’s still working?” he asked, and Tony exhaled, but nodded. 

“Her last day’s the fourth,” he said, and then he glanced up, smiling a little. “Did you see the text Peter sent to the group chat?” 

Bruce smiled back, and nodded. “Do you think he’ll actually go through with it?”

“Sure,” Tony replied, sitting up. “I mean, he loves her, and they’ve been dating for a year. I told him he wasn’t allowed to ask her to marry him, yet.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “He wouldn’t have.”

“No,” Tony agreed. “But I figured it was best to tell him not to, give him incentive to hold back on that for a little while longer. Said he should at least wait until she graduates.” He paused, and then smiled. “Now that the original bet is over, we should start another pool on whether or not she’ll say yes.”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean, sure, it’s been a year, but maybe Cheri doesn’t want to make that sort of change during her last year of college. It’s a pretty big transition.”

Tony snorted. “I bet you ten dollars she’ll say yes,” he said. 

“Deal,” Bruce replied, and reached over the desk to shake Tony’s hand. They were silent for a moment, Bruce unsure of where to take the conversation next, and Tony not thinking they needed to keep talking about anything. 

“Mr. Stark, Cap and Nat want to come up,” Cheri said through the phone. Tony sighed, and reached over to touch the button. 

“Sure, we can throw a party. Send ‘em up.”

“Am I invited?” Cheri asked, slightly amused, and Tony smiled a little. 

“No, you have work to do, sorry.”

Cheri made a noise of disappointment, and Bruce grinned at Tony. “You’ll miss having her around everyday, won’t you?” he asked. 

Tony made a vague gesture with his hands. “She’s done a great job,” he said, which wasn’t really an answer to Bruce’s question, but he didn’t press for one. He could gather the information he needed through those five words. 

“Tone,” he said, and Tony glanced at him. “We’re going to figure this out, okay?” 

Tony did not respond. Thankfully, the door to the office opened again, and Steve walked through, Natasha behind him. Bruce relaxed a bit, and Natasha moved to stand next to him, leaning slightly into his side. 

“What’s up?’ Tony asked the two of them. “Find anything new since last night?” 

Steve looked the tiniest bit exasperated, but Bruce had to give him credit when he replied, his voice level, “No. Natasha wanted a closer look at the window.”

“If someone found glass on the street, it would make sense that the window would have been broken from inside the building,” Nat explained. “But since there was glass on the floor up here, too, then…” She shrugged. “Could’ve been inside or outside, which doesn’t help much.” 

Tony lifted his shoulders. “I just want to know how they managed to get in from up that high, or how they managed to get _ out _ from up that high. Can this person _ fly?” _

Bruce exchanged a look with Natasha, before he turned back to Tony. “Like I said,” he started, “we’re going to figure that out.” 

“Could you get me access to the security footage from the floors that were ransacked, during the time of the break in?” Natasha questioned. Tony started to speak, but she cut him off. “I’m sure you already had someone look at it, Stark, but it’s me.”

Tony exhaled. “Fair enough. You all should have clearance throughout the Tower, so security should let you in. Just let them know I said you could look at whatever you want.” He turned his eyes downwards, fiddling with some papers on his desk. “I have work to do, so…”

Natasha snorted, but all the same walked out of the office after touching Bruce’s hand lightly with her fingers, an invitation for him to join her. He nodded after her, then looked at Steve. Steve tilted his head back and forth, and Bruce smiled. He exited the office after Nat, closing the door behind him. 

“Stark,” Steve began, and Tony cursed.

“What?” 

“Talk to me.”

“About _ what, _ Rogers?” Tony demanded. “And what the hell were you thinking, deciding to call them? I said we didn’t need to get them involved.”

“Tony, we all lived on the floors that were ransacked,” Steve said. “Whoever did it might have been targeting them, too. They deserved to know.”

Tony looked exasperated, now. “No, no one lived on the floors that were ransacked in _ this _ building. The building you all lived in is the property of the Daily Bugle, now.” He ran his hand through his hair, and muttered, “You didn’t need to ask them to _ come.” _

“I _ didn’t _ ask them to come _ ,” _ Steve retorted, his patience growing thin. Tony had been acting like this since they’d found out about the break in the night before, and he was tired of it. “They wanted to, because they know that this could be an issue for them, too. Just because it’s a new building doesn’t mitigate the fact that the only floors that were messed with were the ones that we lived on in the original Tower.”

Tony shook his head, and Steve rested his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning over it towards him. “Whoever broke in wasn’t doing so to get at you, Tony,” he said, lowering his voice. “They wanted to get at the original Avengers. So whether you want to be involved or not, the rest of us are going to figure out what the hell went on here, last night, and why.”

He turned, then, and stalked out of the office, closing the door with a bit more force than maybe was necessary. He regretted it, almost as soon as the door was shut, but he shook the feeling off, and started towards the elevator, passing by Cheri’s desk. 

“Hey,” she said, glancing up from her laptop. “Is he -?”

“Still being the way he was? Yeah,” Steve replied, shaking his head. “Maybe you could talk to him.”

Cheri made a face. “I doubt he’ll respond any differently to whatever I say,” she said. 

Steve sighed. “You’re probably right. We’ll be down in security looking at footage, if he comes asking.” 

Cheri nodded, and watched him walk away towards the elevator, disappearing into it. She then glanced over her shoulder, towards the closed door of Tony’s office, and sighed to herself, reaching for her phone. 

_ Me: He’s still being stubborn. _

_ Pete: Well, sure. Acting like what happened isn’t a big deal, since it doesn’t affect him directly is a Mr. Stark thing. Are Nat and the Doc back? _

_ Me: Yeah, Doc went in to talk to him, but I guess it didn’t matter much. They’re looking at the security footage now. _

_ Pete: Need me to come up? _

Cheri smiled to herself.

_ Me: No, I can handle him. I’ll let you know if I learn anything new. _

She set her phone down again, and stood. She picked up a folder that she needed to give to Tony anyway, in case he realized her intentions, and walked towards the office. She lifted a fist, knocking lightly on the door. “Mr. Stark?” 

He replied with a grunt, and she sighed, before opening the door. He sat at his desk, back turned towards the door, staring out the window behind him. She hesitated in the doorway, suddenly not sure if this was a good idea. 

“What is it, Cheri?” he asked, which meant she couldn’t back down now. 

“Just some paperwork for you to look over,” she responded, approaching the desk. She set the folder down on top of the countless other papers that already littered it, and backed away again. “And you should probably start thinking about lunch, sir. Perhaps you could eat with the others.”

“Others…?”

“Captain Rogers, and Doctor and Mrs. Banner,” Cheri replied. Tony scoffed a little, under his breath, and finally turned his chair around to face her. 

“Why would I do that?” he asked. 

Cheri exhaled. “Because they’re your friends?” she said. “And they happen to be at your place of work, near lunchtime, which opens up the possibility of you eating with them. If you want to, of course.” 

Tony stared at her for a second. “You all really just… want me to scream, don’t you?” he finally asked, and Cheri raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” she said. “I just want to know if you’d like to eat lunch with your friends.” 

“I would not,” Tony said. “And I’m not hungry right now, either. I have a lot of work to do.” 

Cheri remained where she stood in front of his desk for a moment longer, watching as he moved the folder she’d brought to him off of the pile of papers beneath it, and then she nodded. 

“Fine,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He grunted again in response, and she started to leave the office. Before she could close the door, however, he said her name, and she looked back at him. His gaze was still turned towards the papers, but he said, “Make sure that the other three get something to eat. They’ll forget, with what they’re busy doing.”

Cheri smiled, and nodded again. “Yes, sir,” she said, and then she exited the office, closing the door softly behind her. When it was shut, Tony glanced up again, and let out a quiet breath, before turning to look out the window once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, obviously, this is going to be interesting in that chapters are kind of sectioned off based on dates (sort of like in "Since You've Been Mine"), so formatting this baby is going to be fun, and also, uh, I literally have no idea how long this is, so...
> 
> But thanks for joining me! We're going to get to know Cheri better, and hopefully, y'all will enjoy the spin I've decided to take with this universe I made by making the mistake of writing a fake DnD campaign for Marvel characters, knowing full well where that would lead. 
> 
> Also, I've taken liberties with locations, such as where the new Stark Tower is (where they moved to after selling the original in 'Spider-Man: Homecoming'), and like, where I think other locations for certain spots might be, but uhm... generally, it's in line with what New York, and specifically Manhattan, looks like, I think. 
> 
> At this point, I've probably spent more time understanding a map of Manhattan as research for this thing than, like, I've spent doing papers for my many college classes. That's how dedicated I am to this dang thing. Hopefully, that dedication pays off.


	2. Ned Gets By With a Little Help From His Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ESU is a big group of butt heads and now Ned knows it for sure.

**August 31st, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 6:23 PM**

Peter glanced up from his laptop as the door to the apartment opened, and Ned came trudging in. Peter frowned to himself, turned his gaze back to the laptop. “Long day?” he guessed. 

Ned merely grunted in response, and walked past the couch down the hall. Peter heard the door to the bathroom close. He shook his head, and continued typing out the response he was sending to the head of the project he was currently part of at work. 

Next to him, his phone vibrated, and the message popped up in the corner of his laptop screen.

> _ Cher: Ned make it home? _
> 
> _ Me: Yeah. Did he already tell you how it went? _
> 
> _ Cher: No, that’s why I texted. _
> 
> _ Me: I’ll let you know what he says. _

He looked up again as Ned returned to the living room from the bathroom, and fell heavily onto the couch next to him. Peter gave him a second, letting him situate himself, get comfortable, before he said, “So… how’d it go?” 

Ned sighed outwards for a long moment. “I mean…” he finally began. “It went about the way I’d guessed it would. They made me fill out a bunch of papers, wait eight years to actually speak to a human being, even though I had an appointment, and then basically said that they don’t have any openings at this time. After all that work.” 

Peter reached over and grabbed his shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, quietly. 

Ned merely shook his head. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t - it’s a competitive program.”

Ned had applied for a graduate program at ESU that focused on his preferred specialization in computer science. From what he was saying, it seemed that all of the positions had been filled, probably by students who’d had higher grade point averages. 

“Well… there’s still the bio program, right?” Peter asked, and Ned snorted. 

“That isn’t what I want to _ do, _though, Peter,” he said. “Computers are my thing. They’ve always been my thing.” He shook his head. “I fucked up by getting a biotech degree. I should’ve started with computer science.” He placed his head in his hands, inhaling. “Stupid.” 

Peter didn’t know what there was to say. He could encourage Ned, tell him to take a semester off, get a job, save up some money and then try again after winter break. He could encourage him to go after the bio program anyway, since he knew Ned had at least a partial interest in that. Or, he could tell Ned to go back, take the computer science classes he needed, and then try again to get his master’s. 

Still, though, he imagined that all of these options must have gone through Ned’s head by now, and he probably just didn’t want to think about it anymore tonight. Peter supposed he couldn’t blame him. 

“Give it some time, then,” Peter said. “You have a spot in the bio program, and if you decide that isn’t your thing, then just take some time off. You deserve that.” He patted Ned’s shoulder. “For tonight, though, just stop thinking about it, relax. You want me to make you some food?” 

Ned shook his head, then glanced up. “Do we have any alcohol?” 

Peter smiled a little. “No,” he replied, “because we all agreed that drinking if things went badly today would not be the right way to go, remember?” 

Ned grunted, let his head fall again. “I hate past me,” he muttered. 

Peter let the silence that fell between them go on as he messaged Cheri, letting her know what Ned had told him. She responded with a sad face emoji, and that was how Peter knew she meant it. A minute later, Ned’s phone rang in his pocket, and he sighed as he pulled it out and answered it. 

“You shouldn’t gossip about me with your boyfriend who’s literally sitting next to me on the couch,” was his greeting, and Peter quickly turned his eyes to his laptop. 

Ned was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Thanks, Cheri. I don’t really want to think about what comes next, y’know?” He waited, sighed, and continued, “Yeah, I know. Peter said the same thing.” 

The door to the apartment opened again, and Harry shuffled in this time. He shrugged off his jacket, hung it on the coat rack, and tilted his head in Ned’s direction. Peter waved a hand in the air in a negative gesture, and Harry’s shoulders fell. He walked behind the couch, and wrapped his arms around as much of Ned's shoulders as he could. 

“Right,” Ned said into his phone, reaching up to grip Harry’s arm, gratefully. “Yeah. No, I don’t need ice cream, thank you though. Unless it’s that churro vanilla stuff you made that one time.” He paused again, and then smiled a little. “Right. I could use some right about now. Are Harry and I going to see you after your date with Peter tomorrow?”

Harry looked at Peter again, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. Peter flipped him off in response, and Harry grinned, letting go of Ned to head for the bathroom. Peter refreshed his email again, decided the project head probably wasn’t going to get back to him tonight, and closed the laptop, setting it down on the coffee table in front of him. 

“All right. Talk to you later, Cheri. Bye.” He’d lowered his phone and placed it on the coffee table as well, before leaning back against the couch cushions. “I’m glad you’re in love with Cheri,” he said after a moment of silence, “because I really appreciate having her around.”

Peter chuckled, and nudged his arm. “Yeah, she’s pretty great,” he agreed, and then he stood up, stretching. “Should we get take out?” 

“Ooh, yeah, let’s do Chinese,” Harry said, returning to the front room. He glanced at Ned as Peter wandered towards the kitchen to find their take out menus. “Sorry about the program, dude.” 

Ned merely shook his head. “It’s all right. I have options.” He exhaled. “I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.” 

Harry nodded in understanding. Peter returned, holding the menu for the closest Chinese place, looking over the options. 

“I guess we’ll just do what we normally get,” he finally said. “Harry, do you have cash for a tip?”

“Yeah, pretty sure I have a ten,” Harry replied, and dug a hand into the pocket of his jeans. 

“Do you want anything extra, Ned?” Peter asked, settling down on the couch again, holding a hand out for the cash when Harry finally managed to find it. 

“No, I’m all right,” Ned said, standing. “I’m not really that hungry. I think I might just take a shower and head to bed.” 

Harry stopped searching for his money, eyebrows furrowed. “No,” he said. “Don’t do that. Hang out with us; it’ll help you take your mind off it.” 

Ned shook his head. “I’m really tired,” he said. “I just want to go to sleep. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” 

“Ned,” Peter said, but he walked away down the hall, and a moment later, the door to the bathroom closed, and the shower turned on. Peter’s shoulders fell, and he glanced at Harry, who looked just as disheartened as Peter felt. 

“He’ll be okay,” Peter said. “He just needs a day or two to recoup, and think about what he’ll do next.” 

“I just wish he’d let us help him,” Harry responded. He sighed, and gestured towards the menu. “You still wanna -?”

“Nah,” Peter murmured, tossing it down on the coffee table. “Guess I’m not really in the mood.”

“Yeah, me either,” Harry replied, quietly, and headed towards the kitchen. Peter sank back into the couch cushions, staring at the top of the coffee table without really seeing it. He felt like he was being a bad friend, but he really had no idea what he could do for Ned, other than to give him space. 

“Hey, I read earlier that Stark Tower was broken into,” Harry said, drawing Peter’s attention back to the present. He stood in the archway leading to the kitchen, holding a bowl. “What’s - is everything okay? The article wasn’t very descriptive.” 

Peter exhaled. “Yeah, and I don’t know very much, either,” he said. “Just that none of the floors where S.I. operates were touched, so it’s all pretty much fine, aside from some damages on the floors that were broken into.” _ More like _ a lot _ of damages. _

“Huh,” Harry said, spooning some cereal into his mouth. “Kind of weird.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Peter agreed. He stood, picking up his laptop. He slid his phone into his pocket, shrugging. “Mr. Stark isn’t making a big deal out of it, though.” 

“I mean, I guess that makes sense, if Stark Industries was left alone,” Harry said. His spoon _ tink-_ed against the edge of the bowl. “So you’re still doing that thing with Cheri?” 

“I wouldn’t have talked to you and Ned about it if I didn’t plan on going through with it,” Peter replied with a smile. 

“Fair,” Harry said, and he walked back into the kitchen. 

Peter headed for his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He hooked his laptop to its charger, and then sank down on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. In his pocket, his phone vibrated, and he pulled it out. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he greeted, answering the call. 

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s kind of late,” Tony replied. “Just wanted to check on how things went with Ned.” 

Peter clicked his tongue. “Not so good,” he said, sitting up. “He thinks it has something to do with his bachelor’s degree, and honestly, it probably does.”

Tony sighed. “Well,” he began after a second, “he has other options. Let him know he has a job with S.I., if he wants one.” 

Peter smiled. “I’ll do that.” 

“You ready for tomorrow?” Tony asked. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, his smile growing. “I am. I just hope she says yes.” 

“Of course she will,” Tony told him. “What else could she say?” 

“... no?”

Tony scoffed, and Peter laughed. “She won’t,” Tony assured him. “And if she does, there’s probably a reason.” 

“Right,” Peter said, glancing towards his desk, where the pros/cons list on the issue that he had made sat. “I’ve already figured it all out, to avoid heartbreak.” 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Tony said. 

“Dramaticism is a learned behavior,” Peter told him. 

“Haha,” Tony said, dryly. Peter chuckled, and Tony let out a breath. “All right, I’ll let you go. Oh, wait, how’s that project going?” 

“We’ve sort of hit a snag, but hopefully we should have it cleared up by Monday,” Peter responded. “I tried emailing Davis, but it’s late, so.” 

“Right, not everyone is you and me,” Tony agreed. “Okay, kid, talk to you later. Let us know how tomorrow goes.” 

“I will. Bye, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, and he lowered the phone, ending the call. He fell back down on the bed, and rested his arm over his eyes, exhaling slowly. 

The sound of something clinking against his window brought him back. Peter shifted, lifting his arm from his eyes, and blinked against the light of his bedside lamp. He lifted his phone, which rested on his chest, and his eyes widened when it saw it was almost midnight. 

“Holy shit,” he said, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but when he thought about it, he realized that he really hadn't gotten any sleep for almost two days, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d drifted off. 

The clinking at his window continued, and he moved off the bed towards it, peering out it towards the ground. Making a face when he spotted the source, he pushed the window open and leaned out it. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?” 

Cheri grinned up at him, tossing the small stone she held back onto the pavement. “Because, this is more fun,” she said. “Help me up.” 

“Just go around to the front door,” Peter replied. Cheri did not move, and he groaned, but used his watch that she’d gifted him for his birthday to create a web. She grabbed onto it, and Peter hauled her up the three floors to his window, helping her through. 

“The hell are you doing here?” he asked, and Cheri held up a paper bag. Peter gazed at it for a moment, then looked at her again, an eyebrow raised. 

Cheri sighed. “Ned’s ice cream,” she said. “I started working on it as soon as I talked to him, earlier. I couldn’t make the base vanilla myself, which I would’ve preferred, but it tastes all right.”

“Cheri, it is almost midnight,” Peter told her. Cheri merely gazed at him, and he exhaled. “New York is dangerous at night.” 

Cheri smile. “Pete, I grew up here,” she said. “I don’t need you to tell me how dangerous New York is at night.” She moved around him towards the door of his bedroom. “I’m glad you were here. Halfway over, I realized that you might be out fighting crime, but then I figured, no, because we have a date tomorrow.”

“Yes, exactly,” Peter agreed, sliding in front of her. “We have a date tomorrow. So you should be home, sleeping.”

“I can sleep here,” Cheri said. “Move, I want to bring this to Ned.” 

_ “He’s _ probably sleeping.” 

Cheri started at him. “Which means I’ll have to put it in the freezer. It’s ice cream, Queens.” 

Peter sighed, but moved out of the way of the door. Cheri pulled it open, and exited his bedroom. Peter followed her, after a moment, and almost ran into her where she’d stopped at the end of the hall. 

“What?” he asked, and he peered over her head, to find that Ned sat on the couch in the living room, the TV on and muted in front of him. 

Cheri’s shoulders fell, and she moved around the couch to join him, silently holding out the bag. Ned took it, not even reacting to the fact that Cheri was suddenly present in their apartment, despite not having come through the front door. He opened the bag, and let out a small laugh. 

“Thanks,” he said. Cheri rubbed his shoulder, and Ned rested his head in his hand, sniffling. “Sorry, I just -”

“Don’t apologize,” Cheri told him, and she glanced at Peter, jerking her head towards Ned. Peter quickly hopped over the back of the couch, to Ned’s other side, and he placed an arm around his friend’s shoulders. Ned leaned into him, still sniffling, and Peter looked at Cheri, brows furrowed. 

“Here, let me put this in the freezer,” Cheri said, gently pulling the paper bag away, and heading for the kitchen. When she was out of sight, Peter pressed his face into the top of Ned’s head. 

“It’s gonna be all right, buddy,” he said, quietly. “We’ll figure it out.” 

Cheri returned from the kitchen, and sat down on the edge of the coffee table, leaning forward to put her hand on Ned’s knee. She rubbed it for a moment, and lifted her head at the sound of movement in the hallway. Peter glanced up as well, and saw Harry standing there, looking half asleep and wary. He blinked at the three of them for a moment, before moving around the couch and sitting down on Ned’s other side. 

None of them said anything, because they didn’t have to. They all simply sat, letting the companionship between them permeate in the air as the main form of communication. Peter thought it suited them. 

Eventually, Ned shifted, and Peter let him go. He sat up again, rubbing at his eyes for a moment, and he exhaled heavily. 

“Sorry,” he said at last, looking mostly at Harry, who’d been the one to be woken up. 

“Don’t be,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “I’d rather be here for you than sleeping.”

Ned laughed, a little, and looked at Cheri. “And thanks for the ice cream, really. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure I did,” Cheri replied, smiling. “The vanilla isn’t homemade, though.”

Ned laughed again. “Oh no,” he said, sniffling. “I bet it’s going to taste awful.”

Cheri’s smile turned into a grin. Ned looked at Peter when he shifted. “Mr. Stark said you can work for Stark Industries,” he said, and Ned smiled. 

“Might have to take him up on that. At least for a semester. Maybe even a year.” He let out a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “I just can’t stop thinking about how I should’ve… y’know, done something different.”

“See, which isn’t something you should be doing, anyway,” Harry told him. “You can’t go back and change anything, so what’s the point of regretting what you did do?” 

“Right,” Peter agreed. “I mean, you have a college degree, which, like, is major points for any employer looking to hire someone.” He offered Ned a grin. “And it’s a kick-ass degree, on top of that.”

“True,” Cheri said. “You could get a job anywhere. And, who knows? Maybe you could do freelance computer stuff. Whatever that entails. As like, a side thing.” 

Ned looked around at all three of them for a moment, a look of appreciation on his face. “I love you guys,” he said, softly, sincerely. “Thank you.”

Harry merely slid his arms around him, coming in sideways. Ned laughed, and placed an arm around him, reaching out in Peter’s direction as well. Peter fell into the hug, and smiled at Cheri, who spread her hands and stood up. 

Peter moved out of the hug, and stood up as well. “I think we all should get some sleep,” he said, and glanced at Cheri. “Kind of got things to do tomorrow.”

“Right,” Ned said, and he let Harry go, reaching for the remote. “Harry just needs to sleep in general.”

“My beauty sleep is very important,” Harry retorted, his tone sarcastic, but Peter could see his hands shaking, and knew that Harry really did need to get his rest. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“We’ll see you guys in the morning,” Peter said, taking Cheri’s hand and leading her out of the living room. Once they were both in his bedroom, he closed the door and turned to look at her. Cheri smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his middle and hugging him. 

Peter hugged her back, inhaling. Ned would be okay. They would make sure of it.


	3. It's A Step In the Right Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you gotta ask littler questions to know what your stance might be when it comes to the bigger question.

**September 1st, 2023 - Cedar Hill, Central Park, New York, NY, USA - 5:19 PM**

“Wait, so, what is this for?” Cheri asked, following Peter up the hill. Nearby, a dog owner chased after his big Rottweiler, laughing as the dog ran away from him, leash in its mouth. Cheri smiled at the two of them, forgetting for a second that she was supposed to be paying attention to Peter, and maybe helping him. 

He carried both a picnic basket and a blanket, and looked back at her. “You coming?” he asked. 

Cheri looked away from the dog chase, and kept walking. “Whenever it’s a situation like this, where you don’t really tell me about it beforehand, I just assume it’s some sort of anniversary or something, but… we already did that, right?” she continued. 

Peter reached the top of the hill, and set the basket down, before going about trying to set the blanket up on the ground. It seemed to be a difficult task for one person, as the blanket continued to fold over on itself, even though he tried to fan it out in a graceful, single motion. 

Cheri chortled, and picked up her pace a bit so that she could help him. She grabbed the other end of the blanket, and met his eyes, raising her eyebrows. Together, they pulled the blanket upwards, and then let it drift downwards, where it met the ground, unfolded and as straight as it could be on grass. 

“Thanks,” Peter said, and he settled down on top of it, reaching for the picnic basket. Cheri continued to watch him, eyeing the different things he pulled from the basket. A pair of wrapped sandwiches, two mini bags of potato chips, and two bottles of Cheerwine. 

“You got Cheerwine,” she said, a little disbelieving. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, looking up at her. “Duane Reade has everything.” He held out his hand towards her, and she took it, allowing him to pull her down onto the blanket beside him. He passed her one of the sandwiches, and then nudged a bag of chips and one of the bottles towards her as well. He leaned back on one of his elbows and began to unfold the wrappings on his own sandwich with his opposite hand. 

“So… happy picnic, I guess?” Cheri asked, pulling the cellophane from her sandwich as well. The crust had been removed, and she smiled slightly, seeing this. 

“Happy picnic,” Peter agreed, glancing sideways at her. “I forgot a bottle opener.” 

Cheri laughed, and grabbed the Cheerwine, using a trick her mother had taught her to get the top off. She set it back down near his knee, and opened her own bottle, taking a drink of it. The sweet, cherry flavored drink felt amazing on her parched tongue. 

“How many bottles did you get?” she asked him, and Peter shrugged a little, finishing off his sandwich and reaching for his bag of potato chips instead. 

“Like, twelve, I think?” He shrugged again. “Dunno. They’re for you, but I left them at the apartment.” 

Cheri shrugged herself, and took her first bite out of her sandwich. “That’s all right. I’ll just pick them up before heading home,” she said once she’d swallowed. 

Peter did not reply for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sunset, which they were facing. The sky was a dark shade of orange, the clouds tinged pink and purple and red. It really was gorgeous, Cheri had to admit, probably worth the climb up the hill, and the yelling of the children further down it. 

“What if… what if you just left them at the apartment?” Peter finally asked, and Cheri frowned a little to herself, taking another drink of Cheerwine. 

“Why would I do that, when they’re for me?” 

Peter exhaled a breath. “Because… you could also be at the apartment,” he said, carefully. Cheri glanced at him, her brow furrowed. 

“Queens, would you like to actually articulate what you’re trying to say, or do you want me to struggle trying to guess?” she asked him.

“Okay. Cheri,” Peter started, pushing himself into a sitting position. He almost knocked over his bottle of Cheerwine, and Cheri quickly reached over to save it, maybe half a second after Peter did the same. He did not even glance down at the bottle as he set it off to the side a few inches, keeping his gaze on her. 

“I think - okay. We’ve been dating for over a year,” he said, and Cheri nodded in agreement. “Like, literally… a year and a couple weeks. August 17th, today’s September 1st…”

“Yes,” Cheri said, just in case he hadn’t seen her nod. “Go on.” 

“I know that you live pretty far away from campus, and that last year, you paid almost $3,000 dollars just for gas alone,” Peter continued. 

“Again, yes,” Cheri said, more apprehensive now. “I’m sorry I complained about it so much.”

“No, no, that’s just it,” Peter said, reaching over to place a hand on her arm. “It made me think, right? Like, Ned, Harry, and I? We’re all graduates, now. But we aren’t going to be giving up the apartment or anything, because it’s in a pretty ideal location.” 

Cheri studied him, still holding her sandwich in one hand. “I feel like you’re taking a roundabout trip to the point,” she said, and Peter sighed. 

“Yes, probably, but it’s just because I’m nervous,” he said, and Cheri offered him a smile. She slid her free hand into his. 

“You don’t have to be,” she told him. “Really. Where are you going with this?” 

“Move in with me,” he said, and Cheri blinked at him. “The apartment is within walking distance of campus, and the rent’s paid for. You would just need to help with groceries, which shouldn’t be hard, since we barely buy actual groceries anyway.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a good idea, right? You even said that you want to move out of your mom’s, because you feel weird, still living with her.” 

“Well, yeah, but -”

“I already talked to Ned and Harry about it,” he said, as though sensing what she wanted to ask about. “Ned said it’s fine, as long as we don’t… y’know. Make a lot of noise. And Harry, obviously, said that he doesn’t mind, either, if you cook for us at least once in awhile.” 

Cheri was still struggling to determine whether or not this was a prank. She continued to stare at him, trying to read from his expression any underlying joke. There was nothing on his face other than genuinity, and hopefulness. The offer was sincere. 

“Are you absolutely positive?” she finally asked, and Peter nodded. “Because… if I move in, and then something happens -”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Peter said. “You’re kind of it for me, I think.” 

Cheri blinked again. “You mean that, too, don’t you?” she asked. 

Peter smiled, and Cheri’s heart fluttered a little in her chest. “It’ll be just like when you stayed with us for two weeks when you broke your arm, that one time,” he told her. “Just… instead of going back to Brooklyn, you won’t. Because you’ll be actually living at the apartment.” 

Cheri laughed a little. “Well… okay. Do I get to sleep in your bed this time, too?” 

“Duh, as long as you don’t mind sharing,” Peter said, his smile growing, and he quickly leaned forward and kissed her, cupping her jaw with his free hand. When he pulled away, he was still grinning. “This is kind of insane, isn’t it?” he asked her. 

“Yeah, but… you’re a superhuman who can stick to walls,” Cheri said. “I think anything we do is pretty sane in comparison to that.” 

Peter laughed, and slid away again. Cheri shook her head to herself, grinning, and took another bite of her sandwich, her gaze returning to the sunset. Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sent a text to the group chat at the top of the messages list. 

> _ Me: She said yes. _
> 
> _ Tony: Hah! Bruce, you owe me ten dollars, bubeleh. _
> 
> _ Dr. Banner: Dammit, fine. _
> 
> _ Me: You guys bet on whether or not she’d agree to move in with me? _
> 
> _ Captain Rogers: Well, originally, we bet on how long it would take for you to ask, and I won that one, so I wasn’t allowed to participate in this second round. _
> 
> _ Ned: What did she say about the noise thing? _
> 
> _Me: You _ _don’t have to worry about any noise, Ned. And tell Harry that he’s going to get his food, too. _
> 
> _ Ned: Hell yeah. That’s a win for all of us. _

Peter rolled his eyes, and put his phone away again. He dumped whatever remained of his potato chips into his mouth, and then glanced over at where the bag of Cheri’s sat unopened on the blanket. 

Cheri sighed, patiently. “You can have them, Pete.” 

“Yes, thank you,” he said, grabbing the bag. Cheri smiled to herself, and finished her Cheerwine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's very short, so a second one's popping up today, too. It just wouldn't have made sense to put them both together.


	4. A Chipotle Trip Would Lead To An Old Friend, Wouldn't It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony elects to eat lunch, for once in his life, so of course the universe would show him in multiple ways that he should never do so again.

**September 4th, 2023 - Stark Tower - Broadway & W. 58th St., New York, NY, USA - 12:25 PM**

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay around for another week?” Cheri asked, standing in the doorway of Tony’s office while he finished some work, before they headed out to lunch together. 

“Yes,” Tony said, smiling to himself. “I did manage to do this for, I don’t know, thirty or so years without your help, Peanuts.”

She exhaled a breath, offering him a dry look. “Still hate that nickname, you know.”

“How can you? It’s perfect, if not very original.” She shook her head, and Tony smirked, locking his computer and coming around the desk. “Everything here’s going to be okay, I promise. Thanks to you, I’ve narrowed down the choices of my next PA to three that are very good candidates. With all of their help, it’ll be like you never left.”

Cheri’s shoulders fell. Tony reached out and patted her on the head. “It’s fine,” he said, and then he slid his hands into his pockets. “Where’re we eating lunch?” 

“Oh, I thought you had made a reservation,” Cheri said, stepping out of his way so that he could lock the door to the office. 

Tony snorted. “When it comes to you, I can’t, because you don’t like the food I like,” he said. “Except for Chipotle.”

Cheri smiled. “So maybe we should go to Chipotle,” she said. 

“You read my mind,” Tony said, and Cheri laughed. “Let’s go.”

They walked towards the elevator, and stepped into it when it opened up on the penthouse floor. Cheri pushed the button for the parking garage, and then leaned back against the wall, exhaling. 

“So, you’re moving in, huh?” Tony asked after a moment of silence. 

Cheri glanced at him. “Yeah. The plan is to… y’know, cart my stuff over to the apartment after work.” She wrung her hands for a moment. “Not that I can bring much, but I don’t _ have _much, so.”

“Hm.” Tony gestured vaguely. “Just some clothes and such, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” Cheri shrugged. “A lot of my clothes are already there.” 

Tony snorted, and Cheri smiled a little. The doors of the elevator opened onto the underground parking garage, and Tony led the way towards his Audi. Cheri pulled the passenger door open, and slid into the seat, then looked at him as he turned the car on, the sounds of the engine echoing in the garage. 

“Y’know, I never did have to use my passport,” she told him. Tony grinned as he pulled the car out of the parking spot, and then out of the garage. 

“Sucks. Iceland’s beautiful this time of year.” 

Cheri shook her head. “Couldn’t have scheduled the meeting for last week instead of next week.” 

“Wasn’t really my choice,” Tony said, turning his blinker on as they pulled up to a red light. 

Cheri watched the sidewalk, saw a mother pushing a stroller, and smiled to herself. She then looked at Tony, and said, “How are Doc and Nat doing?” 

“Fine, I think,” Tony said, and he shrugged. “It’s basically the same as it was; she just has his last name, now.” He followed her gaze towards the mother and the stroller, and made a face. “I hope you’re not thinking they’re going to have a baby or something.” 

“No,” Cheri said, leaning back in her seat again as the light turned green. “I was just wondering. Why wouldn’t they have a baby?” 

“Natasha has been saying for years that she only likes kids she has no obligation to,” Tony said. “She doesn’t think she’d be able to raise one. And Bruce doesn’t really know what having a kid would mean when it comes to his big, angry, green genes, so.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Cheri said. She hesitated, and glanced at him. “Did you ever want kids?” 

Something inside Tony (his heart probably) twisted up into a knot at the question. He forced himself to remain relaxed, hands loose on the wheel, and he shrugged again. “Never… really thought about it,” he said, wincing internally at the lie. “I was never… y’know, in a relationship where I _ could _ think about that sort of thing. The next step. I just…” He trailed off, had to inhale to hold back the sudden urge to cry, and he told Cheri the same thing he’d been telling himself for years: “I have Peter. Pretty close.” 

Cheri smiled. Tony thanked whatever divine entity existed that she hadn’t been paying attention to him while he’d sucked back a break down. “Yeah, I guess so. Is it weird to think about how you’ve known him for almost eight years?” she asked.

“That was, like, half his life, when I met him, so yeah, kind of,” Tony said. “But, y’know, now, I can’t even… I don’t like to remember him _ not _ being around.” 

They turned into the Chipotle parking lot, and as Tony turned the car off, Cheri’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, smiled at the text message. 

“What?” Tony asked. 

“Just Captain Rogers, asking if we need any help moving me in,” Cheri said, sending a text back. Tony grunted, and Cheri looked over at him. “What?” 

_ “Captain Rogers,” _ he said in a mocking tone, and Cheri frowned at him. Tony returned the look. “He’s not so great.” 

“I think he’s awesome,” Cheri retorted, and she pushed her door open, sliding out of her seat. Tony went after her, locking the car on his way. He pulled the door to the restaurant open for her, and Cheri lifted an eyebrow at him, but walked inside all the same. Tony joined her in line, clearing his throat. Cheri glanced up at him. “What is it?” 

“Mm? Nothing,” Tony said. “Just looking at the menu, figuring out what I want.”

“Mr. Stark, it’s _ Chipotle,” _ Cheri said, gazing at him. “You literally get the same thing every time. Why don’t you go get a table, and I’ll order for both of us, all right?” 

Tony sighed. “Fine,” he said, and handed over two twenty dollar bills. Cheri lifted an eyebrow at the money. 

“A bowl is nine dollars,” she reminded him. 

“Eh,” Tony said dismissively, and he stepped out of line again, settling down at the nearest table. Almost at once, a kid, no older than eleven, approached him, wide-eyed. Tony smiled at him. 

“Iron Man,” the kid said after a second, and Tony shrugged. 

“Every once in awhile,” he agreed. “You want some sort of proof to show your friends, that Iron Man eats Chipotle?”

“Yeah!” the kid said at once, and then walked off a few moments later with a napkin cradled to his chest. Tony watched him go, smiling to himself, before he looked down at the tabletop. Someone had carved what appeared to be a penis into the corner of it. Tony had seen better.

The conversation in the car flooded back to him. He inhaled shakily, and closed his eyes for a moment, pushing away memories that shouldn’t exist. 

“Tony Stark.” He glanced up, and blinked at the figure he found standing next to the table, hands in their pockets. Tony groaned, inwardly.

_ Of fucking course. Just what I need, after almost having a panic attack in the car. Thanks God, or whoever. Seriously. _

Tony leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms. “Ty,” he said, keeping his expression neutral, despite the fact that he felt as though he’d just stepped into a pile of dog shit. 

Tiberius Stone smiled. “Good to fucking see you,” he said, holding out his hand. Tony ignored it. Ty made a face that could have reflected hurt, had it been on anyone but him. “Still not over our little spat, gorgeous?”

“Not a spat,” Tony replied evenly. “A friendship ender, though, definitely.” He glanced around. “Surprised to see you here. Not still interested in that health kick you were obsessed with, back in the day?” 

“Eh, you get older, you start to care less,” Ty said with a shrug. “What’re you doing here? Wouldn’t have thought to see you out in public so soon after the break-in.”

Tony raised both his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you know about it, huh?” he asked, and Tiberius showed his teeth in a wicked grin. 

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, baby cake,” he said, tone sickly sweet. “You should do your best to remember that.” 

“Mr. Stark?” They both turned towards Cheri, who stood behind Ty, holding a tray with two burrito bowls on top of it. She glanced between the two of them, and Tiberius smirked, looking back at Tony. 

“They just keep getting younger for you, don’t they, cupcake?” he asked, and he turned to Cheri again. “Tiberius Stone. Old friend of Tony’s.” 

“Cheri Schultz, Mr. Stark’s personal assistant. For the rest of today, anyway,” Cheri said, leaning around him to set the tray down on the table. Tony thought there was a subtle shift in Ty’s stance, but he couldn’t be sure what it was about. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stone,” Cheri continued, looking at him again. “Viastone’s your company, right? That big telecommunications conglomerate?” 

“Got it in one,” Tiberius informed her, winking. He then looked at Tony. “Give me a call sometime, Tony. I miss our talks, don’t you?” 

“Not at all,” Tony answered dryly. “Get out of here, before you make me lose my appetite.” 

“He’s always been so sensitive,” Ty said, smiling at Cheri. 

“Mr. Stone, are you ready to go?” a young man holding a brown bag asked, stopping next to where he stood. 

“Yeah, c’mon,” Ty replied, tilting his head in the direction of the door. “You know where to reach me.”

“Sure,” Tony said. “I won’t be trying, though.” 

Tiberius merely smiled, and walked away, the man, probably one of his assistants, scurrying after him. Tony’s shoulders remained tense even after both exited the building, until Cheri sat down across from him, her brow furrowed. 

“You okay?” she asked, and he blinked, glancing at her. 

“Yeah, fine,” he said, gruffly, and he grabbed for his bowl, which lacked beans but had extra guacamole. “You didn’t get chips? I gave you forty dollars.” Cheri raised an eyebrow, and Tony glanced down. “Sorry, I just - Tiberius fucking Stone.”

“Not a fan of him, I’m guessing,” Cheri said, pulling her own meal towards her. 

“No,” Tony said. “I used to be his biggest fan, but then he did some shit. And some more shit. And then he did the _ biggest _ shit, and I knew I had to get him out of my life, and so I did. But it’s hard to end a lifelong friendship, especially one that was at times a relationship, too.” 

Cheri made a face. “Like, a romantic relationship?” 

Tony sighed. “More like a friends-with-benefits sort of relationship,” he said. “It got ugly. That’s really all there is to say.” He stopped mixing his bowl, and gazed at the penis carved into the tabletop. “It was a long time ago. Before Iron Man, even, the kidnapping. I - when I went missing, and came back, it was like he only cared that I was still alive for the sake of his news stories, and that was when I knew I had to get away from him, because he didn’t…” He paused, and shook his head. “It was always business, for him.”

Cheri glanced downwards. “Sucks,” she said, quietly. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s whatever,” Tony said, pushing his fork through a piece of steak. “My father drove his father to the edge of bankruptcy, and our friendship was never going to be the same, after that sort of mess.” 

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Cheri doing her best to pretend that she didn’t want to hear more of the story, and Tony pretending that he didn’t notice that she was pretending she didn’t want to hear more of the story. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, and if he was being honest, he wasn’t in the mood to be eating either. Seeing Ty again after however many years it had been had really messed with his entire being and mood. The day was sufficiently ruined, which Tony hated to admit, since it was Cheri’s last day, and he’d wanted to have fun with her. 

“Are you ready to go back to school?” he asked her, eventually, and Cheri looked up from her food, clearly surprised that he'd started a new conversation. She'd gotten very good at reading his moods over the last few months. Tony supposed she wouldn't have done as good of a job as his PA if she hadn't. 

“Yeah. I mean, not the school part, but I’m ready to get this last semester out of the way,” she replied. “Do you know how many classes I’m taking?” 

“How many?” Tony queried, an eyebrow raised.

_ “Seven,” _ Cheri told him, and Tony widened his eyes in an appropriate representation of shock. “Yeah. It’s because all of the different classes where they teach different instruments have to be separate, for some reason. I guess because each one needs sixteen weeks to be taught or whatever, but _ honestly, _ I could learn them in eight.”

“How many instrument classes are you taking?” 

“Three,” Cheri sighed. “And one of them is for saxophone. I tried to learn how to play saxophone when I was, like, eleven I think, and it did not go well. Spit, y’know?” She shuddered. “I _hate _reeds.”

“That’s the thing on the part where you put your mouth, right?” Tony asked, and Cheri nodded. “Yeah, I can see where the hate comes in. Gross.”

“Exactly.” Cheri exhaled, resting her chin on her hand. “Have you ever hated something about your favorite… I don’t know, science-y technological stuff?” 

Tony smiled a little. “Sure,” he replied. “But you kind of just deal in favor of doing everything else that you love about it, right?”

“Yeah,” Cheri said. “That’s - yeah. Good way to look at it, Mr. Stark. Thanks.”

Tony nodded, and returned his attention to his food. “Hey,” he said after a moment, and Cheri glanced at him. “I’m gonna miss having you around.” 

Cheri smiled, her dimples showing. “I’m gonna miss being around,” she told him. “Thanks, for letting me work for you this summer. I really appreciate it.” 

Tony laughed. “When you own your own company, but aren’t willing to give friends who need one a job, then you’re the worst kind of asshole. I’d rather be an asshole for different reasons.” 

Cheri’s smile grew, and she nodded in agreement. “Fair enough,” she said. She looked at her phone as it chimed. “We should be heading back soon.” 

“Right,” Tony said, and he glanced down at his half-finished meal. “Guess we’ll take these to go.” 

Cheri nodded, and stood. “I’ll go get us lids.” 

Tony watched her walk away, and then he exhaled a breath, and pulled his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Peter. 

> _ Me: You need help moving Cheri’s stuff? _
> 
> _ Underoos: Nah, we should be okay. Thanks for offering, though. How’s lunch? _
> 
> _ Me: Fine. You could’ve come. _
> 
> _ Underoos: Eh. Busy. _

Tony slid his phone away as Cheri returned with two tin lids, and handed him one. He placed it onto his bowl, patted it, and then looked at her, shoulders falling. He smiled. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Cheri replied, nodding. 

“C’mon, then,” Tony said, standing and leading the way out of the Chipotle.


	5. Being Spider-Man and Also a Boyfriend is Super Difficult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure Peter would've liked to stay and "help unpack", but... y'know. Superhero.

**September 4th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 8:31 PM**

“Please, dear God, tell me we’re done,” Ned gasped, leaning against the couch. “I can’t climb those stairs again.”

Peter set down the four boxes he carried on the ground, giving his friend a look. “You went up and down them twice, and you carried a single box both times.” 

“I am _ out of shape,” _Ned said, sourly. “Let me complain.” 

Cheri poked her head out of Peter’s bedroom, _ their _ bedroom, and grinned at them both. “Thanks, guys,” she said. “Pete?” 

“Yeah, coming,” he said, and he picked up the four boxes again, carrying them towards her. Cheri moved out of his way, and he set them down on the floor next to the bed, which they’d moved to the center of the wall, rather than pressed up against it on one side. It significantly lowered the amount of free space.

They both glanced around for a moment, before Cheri looked at him. “Move the bed back against the wall?” 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Peter replied. Cheri merely shook her head, and Peter quickly shoved the bed back into place with his foot. 

“Better,” Cheri said, and then she sat down on the floor and tugged one of the boxes closer to her, opening it. “CDs.”

“Mm,” Peter said, glancing around. “We’ll find space for them.” He shrugged, looked at her. "Still don't know why you have so many CDs considering everything can exist on a computer, but."

Cheri made a face at him. "Because," she began, and pushing the box away, "sometimes, it's nice to have a tangible thing to hold in your hands!"

Peter chuckled, and nudged a different box towards her. She opened it. “Clothes,” she said, and Peter moved around where she was on the ground, pushing open the closet. 

“Plenty of space,” he said, gesturing, and Cheri smiled a little. 

“You need more clothes,” she said, pulling out several shirts, which were still on hangers. 

“Pfft, nah,” Peter said. “Ten shirts, three pairs of jeans, casual clothes are done. A few nice shirts, a couple pairs of slacks, work clothes are done. And then underwear.” He grinned. “Boys are easier to dress than girls.” 

“Apparently,” Cheri said, hanging up the shirts she held. Peter handed her a few more. “Has Harry always been this late?” she asked him. 

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. “He comes and goes,” he said. “His schedule’s gotten kind of weird since he started working for his dad.”

“Hm. I only ask because I would like to know when I need to start cooking certain things,” Cheri explained, taking the last of her shirts from him. “Hey, did you get a chance to grab those things I needed from the store?” 

Peter lifted an eyebrow. “You asked me to go to the store?” Cheri nodded, and he frowned a little. “Huh. I don’t - sorry, I must have forgot. Work, y’know.”

Cheri looked up at him, smiling. “It’s all right,” she said. “I can go tomorrow, not a big deal.”

She started to walk around him, to poke around in a different box, but Peter quickly slipped an arm around her middle, tugging her back to him. “C’mere.”

“Hey!” Cheri exclaimed, but she had started laughing. She looked up at him, her dark brown eyes alight with mirth. “You’re distracting me.”

“Mm, yeah, that was my intention,” he agreed, and leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. Cheri’s eyes fluttered closed. Peter leaned down further, pressing his nose against the junction at her ear and neck. “So,” he started, speaking low, “been a second.”

“Yeah,” Cheri breathed, “and this was sort of one of the things we agreed couldn’t happen every night for the sake of our roommates.”

“The door’s closed,” Peter said, shifting to the other side of her neck and pressing a kiss to the soft skin there instead. If he allowed himself to, he could listen to her pulse there, count the beats and change his actions to suit it. He decided that he’d rather guess, and he gently sank his teeth into her collar bone. 

“Pete,” Cheri said, her voice low. Her hands moved until they found the curve of his spine, and she pressed her fingers into it, pulling him impossibly closer. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea. I need to unpack.”

“You can unpack anytime,” Peter retorted. He kissed a line across her shoulder, pulling down the sleeve of her shirt to reveal more skin. “Besides, you weren’t going to get it all done tonight, anyway.” 

Cheri snorted, and her hands moved around to the front of his shirt, starting to undo the buttons there. She tilted her head until her forehead touched his, inviting him back upwards for a kiss. It was cut short, however, when Cheri placed her hands on his chest. She did not find herself touching bare skin, and she looked down. 

She examined the image of the spider beneath her fingers, tracing one around it before glancing up at him. Peter looked sufficiently sheepish, and she managed a gentle smile for him. 

“That’s all right,” she said, quietly, and she took a step backwards. “Just… something else we’d have to fight against, right?” 

“Cheri,” he started, but before he could actually come up with an argument, his phone chimed that sound they were both familiar with by now. Cheri felt goosebumps rise on her arms as he pulled it out and looked at it. He frowned to himself, then glanced at her. 

“What is it?” she asked, almost afraid to know, but even more afraid _ not _ to know. 

“Pretty bad fire,” Peter said. “Arson, apparently. I have to go.”

Cheri watched as he stripped off his shirt, fully revealing his suit underneath it. He tugged off his jeans as well, and pulled open the drawer on his desk, freeing up his mask. He moved towards the window, pushed it open, and started to climb through. He was almost all the way out when he paused, and glanced back at her. 

Cheri rubbed her upper arm, doing her best to give him an encouraging smile. Peter’s shoulders fell, and a second later, he was in front of her again, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him for a deep kiss. Cheri leaned up into it, her hand grasping at the back of his neck. 

“Cher,” Peter murmured against her mouth a moment later, and he drew his head back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I have to go,” he repeated, closing his eyes. 

“I know,” Cheri whispered, and she let go of his neck, dropping her hand down to cup his cheek for a moment. She gazed at him, meeting his eyes, which were dark with guilt. “It’s okay. I love you. Be safe, and come back without any serious injuries, all right?” 

The corner of Peter’s mouth raised, and he nodded, kissing her one last time before he moved away, so quickly that Cheri almost didn’t notice. The window closed behind him. 

Cheri breathed out slowly, and sank back against the nearest wall, falling into a squat. It never got easier, watching him leave through his window, his destination involving some sort of danger. It worried her less, when she knew it was a robbery, or a drug deal. Something like this, though, a fire or a shootout… those worried her. She knew Peter could handle a lot on his own, had been doing so for years now, but it - she still worried. How could she not? He was her boyfriend, she loved him. She didn’t want him to get hurt, for the sake of people who didn’t even know his name. 

But that was the difference between her and Peter, wasn’t it? He was so selfless, swinging around New York, helping people from behind a mask. She knew people thanking Spider-Man for helping them was not the same as people thanking Peter Parker for helping them, but that didn’t seem to matter to Peter. It would matter to her, if she had been in Peter’s position. She would have wanted people to know that she was the one saving them, that their masked hero was Cheri Schultz. 

But… she was selfish. Peter was the complete opposite, and she loved him for it. 

“Cheri?” She looked up at Ned, who stood in the doorway of the bedroom. He glanced around, seeing Peter was gone, and looked down at her, mouth twisted in sympathy. “You want to watch a movie or something, wait for him to come home?” 

Cheri smiled up at him, grateful. “You don’t need to do that, Ned.”

“Why not?” he asked. “I don’t have any obligations tomorrow.” He held down his hand to help her up. “Let’s watch something we can laugh at, because of how bad the acting is.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Cheri said, and placed her hand in his, letting Ned pull her to her feet. “Good idea. I’ll make some popcorn.”

“Mm… I don’t know if we have any,” Ned said, walking down the hall towards the main room of the apartment. “Pretty sure I was the last one to go grocery shopping, and I definitely didn’t buy any, so…” Cheri shook her head to herself. 

“Boys,” she mumbled under her breath, following him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is also short... huh. Oh well.


	6. The First Email

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mm... a little sus, huh?

_ To: _ _ nvo.14@osmail.com _ [ _  
_ ](mailto:nvo.14@osmail.com) _ From: hto.31@osmail.com _

_ Subject: Fire _

_ D - _

_ The fire seems to have worked. S-M was drawn to it, no problem, and the gas mixed without any issue. I’ll keep a record on his activity over the next few days, to see if there’s any immediate effect. We might have to lower the dosage if there is. We don’t want anyone getting suspicious too quickly. _

_ No one got hurt in the fire, correct? That wasn’t ever the plan, and I don’t think it’d be smart to do this too many times with injuries involved, or else the Avgrs might step in, take over in fighting a serial arsonist. We don’t want to bother them, because that’ll just raise more flags that we don’t want, right? _

_ Speaking of, what if one of the A-team decides to take over in working on the fires? We should come up with a back-up way of getting the gas into S-M’s system, without hurting C or N. I don’t want them involved unless there’s no other way. _

_ Let me know if you come up with anything, and if there’s anything else you need me to do. We’re gonna get that suit. _

_ \- H _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love putting easter eggs in the secretive areas of my fic.


	7. An Avenger Doesn't Need to Work Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Nat really wish that Tony Stark wasn't such a brat.

**September 7th, 2023 - New Avengers Facility- Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 1:12 PM**

Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair as he went over the security footage of Stark Tower for what was probably the thousandth time. No matter what part of the screen he focused on each time through, it became more and more apparent that he wasn’t missing anything, because there was nothing _ too _ miss. One second, the first floor of the altered living space of Stark Tower was pristine, and then the next it was completely destroyed. They were missing footage. 

This, at least, was something. Natasha had been hard at work for the past few days, trying to recover it from the Tower servers, but so far, she’d been unsuccessful. Steve, who was still pretty much useless when it came to technology, other than to do a Google search or voice chat with anyone else in the Compound, had elected to look through the footage on repeat, hoping to find something that might indicate… well, _ anything. _

He heard movement in the room behind him, and then Bucky sighed. “Are you _ still _ looking at that?” 

“I know,” Steve said, pushing the desk chair backwards and rubbing momentarily at his eyes. “It’s useless, but I feel like I need to be doing something while Nat’s looking for the missing footage.” He turned to look at Bucky, who had seated himself on the edge of their bed. “Where’ve you been?” 

Bucky jerked his head. “Sam had a thing he wanted to check out, asked me to go with him,” he explained. “Nothing serious, had to do with that fire that happened a couple of days ago.” 

“Thought he’d decided to let Peter handle that,” Steve said thoughtfully, and Bucky raised his shoulders. 

“The kid’s busy with other stuff. He said that he'd appreciate it, if Sam could take over.” 

“When did you see him?” Steve asked, crossing his arms.

“Earlier,” Bucky answered. “He was poking around the building, looking for a source for the fire when we showed up. He told us he needed to get back to work; he’d gone over to check it out during his lunch break.” 

Steve smiled at the thought. “He’s a good kid,” he said, and Bucky nodded in agreement. Steve glanced back at the computer screen, studying the paused video footage for a moment. After staring at it, he frowned to himself, and scooted the chair closer to the desk again, leaning in. 

“What?” Bucky asked from behind him. 

“We’re paying attention to the wrong area of the Tower,” Steve mumbled, and he clicked through the other video files that were stored on a flashdrive, searching for the right spot. “Here.” He opened the one with the camera that was angled closer to the window that had been broken, and fast forwarded through it to the spot where the footage went missing. He paused the video at the second before it skipped over to the destroyed floor, and leaned close, looking all over the screen like he was searching for a puzzle piece on a kitchen table. 

After a few seconds, he smiled to himself, and looked back at Bucky. “We’ve got him,” he said. 

About ten minutes later, Natasha and Bruce stood on either side of his computer chair, looking at the computer monitor with him. Steve pointed out what he’d found on the screen, and saw the corner of Bruce’s mouth raise. 

“Nice one, Cap,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s something, definitely.”

“But _ what _ is it?” Tony asked from behind them, and they all turned to look at him. He stood with his arms crossed, looking a little disgruntled. “I mean, honestly. It’s the edge of… like, something black? Who cares?”

The part of the video that Steve had paused on was right before it switched over to the part where the window was already smashed, and the floor was ransacked. The piece that he’d noticed was outside the window entirely, barely even in the frame of the camera shot. Tony was right; it was really nothing more than a black smudge, that looked to be the edge of something larger. 

“We care, because it shows us that whoever broke in came from outside,” Bruce said. “So you don’t have to worry about there being someone on your staff that let them in.” 

“Well, okay, then,” Tony said. “Great. Are we done talking about it, now?” 

“Stark, don’t you want to know who this person _ is?” _ Natasha asked him, and Tony made a face. “If we find out who it was, we can stop it from happening again.”

“And you think we’ll be able to find out who it was from a black shape that’s basically out of sight?” Tony queried flatly. He shook his head. “You guys can do whatever you want. But I don’t want to hear about it anymore, okay? I have bigger things to worry about.”

He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving the three of them alone in front of the computer. Steve rested his forehead in his hand, sighing to himself. 

“What’s his problem?” he asked, not really expecting an answer from either of them. 

“He’s upset,” Bruce said simply. “He’s upset that someone broke into a safe place for him, and he doesn’t have any idea how.” 

“Then why doesn’t he want to help us figure out how?” 

“Because he’s getting old, and he’s tired, Steve,” Natasha answered. “You won’t get it, probably not for decades, but Stark’s - he’s been in this game for a long time, and I think he just… wants to be done with it. Not the superhero part, but with all of the things that come with being a superhero.” She folded her arms across her chest, walked away from them a few steps. “He should’ve realized that as soon as he told the world he was Iron Man, he’d be stuck with it all until he dies.”

The room fell silent for a moment, until Steve cleared his throat, and turned back to the computer. “Then we’ll just have to figure it out for him,” he said. “We’re his teammates, and that’s what teammates do, right?” 

“Sure,” Natasha said. “I’ll go back to looking for the missing footage.” She exited the room, leaving Bruce with Steve. Bruce frowned at the back of Steve’s head for a moment, wondering if he should say anything, and if he should, _ what _ it was he should say. 

“Doc, maybe you could talk to Tony?” Steve finally said, before Bruce could make up his mind, and Bruce’s shoulders fell. 

“Right, because that’s what _ I’m _good at,” he mumbled, and walked out of the room. 

Downstairs, Tony had sank down on a couch in the living room, studying his phone. He could hear movement in the kitchen, and eventually, it stopped. A moment later, Ned emerged into the living room, and he blinked, seeing Tony on the couch. 

“Hey,” he greeted, walking around the couch and sitting down beside him. “What’s - shouldn’t you be at work?” 

“I was working from here,” Tony replied. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Just… y’know. I wanted to get out of the apartment, but I didn’t have anywhere to go but here,” Ned said with a shrug. He stared at the blank TV screen for a moment. “So, Peter said I could work for Stark Industries?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, of course,” Tony said. “There’s probably an opening in IT, somewhere. I’ll get you in touch with the head of employment.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Ned sighed. “I really appreciate this. I just feel like a freeloader if I’m not in school, or working, so.”

“I get it,” Tony said. “Don’t worry.” He looked at Ned. “Are you going to go back and get your master’s, at some point?” 

“Yeah, probably,” Ned said with a shrug. “When I either convince myself to just go with the biology track, or until I can find an open spot in the computer science program.” 

“Mm.” Tony waved his hand. “Don’t go for a master’s degree in something you don’t want a master’s degree in. Seriously, you’ll end up hating yourself for the next three years, and then you’ll hate whatever job you ending up getting thanks to that degree even more. Resent it, I guess. So, just… if you don’t absolutely want to do it, don’t waste your energy.” 

Ned exhaled. “Okay.” 

They both sat in silence for a moment, Tony pretending to be interested in something on his phone screen. Eventually, however, Ned spoke up again, and Tony blinked at the words that came from him: “Were your parents ever disappointed in you?” 

Tony let out a breath, lowered his phone. “Yeah,” he said. “All the damn time, and sometimes for reasons that I still don’t understand, to this day.”

“It’s just - I haven’t told my parents that I didn’t get into the computer science program,” Ned said. “And I don’t… don’t _ want _ to tell them, because I’m worried about how they’ll react.”

“Well,” Tony said after considering it. “I think it’ll probably be easier on you, once you do tell them. It helps, too, that you have an alternative plan; they might even prefer you get a job for however long, especially if you’re in debt or whatever.” Ned let out a noise that implied that he was most definitely in debt, and Tony smiled a little. “Right, so… you won’t know until you tell them, but really, it’ll probably be fine. They wouldn’t want you doing something that you don’t want to do, either.”

Ned nodded, and Tony nudged his shoulder. “Seriously,” he said. “If there’s one thing I learned from my parents - even my dad - it’s that they want whatever’s best for you. In this case, taking a semester or two off to save up some money is what’s best for you, so your parents should be okay with it, once you put it to them that way.”

“All right,” Ned said, and he offered Tony a thin smile. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Tony said. “I’m a litany of advice walking around, with no one to share it with.”

“What am I, cat litter?” Peter’s head appeared between the two of them, the rest of him leaning against the couch, and Tony made a face at him in response. 

“You stopped asking for advice when you started dating Cheri,” he said, and Peter grinned. 

“Yeah, it’s because she sometimes gives better advice than you do,” he told him, and Tony scoffed. 

“Impossible.”

Peter looked at Ned. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, and Ned shrugged again. 

“Wanted to get out, do some thinking. The Compound’s pretty good at inspiring thought processes.”

“It’s the decor,” Tony said, standing. “I should get back to work.” He looked at Peter. “Why are _ you _ here?” 

“Wanted to pick up a few things from the workshop,” he replied, walking with Tony towards the elevator. “I’m gonna build a shelf for all of Cheri’s CDs.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “And you can’t just get a ready-to-construct shelf from a department store why?” 

“I like a challenge,” Peter replied. “The project at work is still in a no-go phase, until Davis gets on his side of things, so I need something to do.” He smiled. “And it’s for Cheri, so.”

“So you’re being a sap and deciding to give her something handcrafted, I get it now,” Tony said with a roll of his eyes. “Is she adjusting okay?” 

“To moving in with me?” Peter asked, and then he nodded. “I think so. I like coming home, and having her there waiting, y’know? Makes me feel like one of those families in the forties that Cap’s always reminiscing about never having.” He paused, made a face. “Not that I’m saying I’d like to have one of those families, since it wasn’t fair that the wife wasn’t able to work, but y’know. It’s nice to have someone to come home to, is what I’m saying.”

“Sure, kid, I get it,” Tony agreed, waving his hand. “You getting off at the basement?” Peter nodded again, and Tony stepped into the elevator as it arrived on their floor. “Great, you get to wait for it to come back down. Later.”

Peter smiled to himself once the doors of the elevator had closed, and he leaned up on his toes, before falling back onto his heels. He hadn’t been over exaggerating, when he’d told Tony he liked having Cheri to come home to. He liked being able to walk into the apartment, to find her sitting on the couch, watching TV or reading a book or working on her laptop, and being able to go and kiss her. He liked not having to call her on the phone everyday, because he saw her when he woke up, and again when he came home. He slept in the same bed as her, could reach out and touch her when he woke up in the middle of the night, to assure himself that she was there. He liked all of these things, and looked forward to them. 

He stepped into the elevator as it reached the main floor again, and then pressed the button for the level that the labs and the workshop were on, leaning back against the wall. He grinned to himself, knowing that once he had grabbed what he needed from the workshop, he’d be able to head home, see Cheri, tell her about his day. 

Maybe Tony was right. Maybe Peter was just a big sap. 

Down in the workshop, Peter ran into Bruce, who was seated on a stool in front of one of the worktables, examining a blueprint. 

“Hi, Doc,” Peter greeted, walking towards him. Bruce started, a bit, and turned to look at him, a smile breaking across his face. 

“Hey, Peter,” he said, holding out his hand for a shake. Peter took it, and then Bruce leaned back against the worktable. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Just grabbing a few things for a project,” Peter replied, walking away to do so. “How’re you doing with married life?”

“Oh, y’know, it isn’t much different from long-term relationship life,” Bruce replied, chuckling. “You just get to wear a ring, and say “my wife” instead of “my girlfriend”.”

Peter grinned, poking through the large pile of wood that sat in one corner of the room. “That’s gotta be something though, right?” he asked. 

“Oh, yeah, just like John Mulaney says,” Bruce said with a nod. _ “My wife _ definitely has more kick-ass to it.” 

Peter laughed, and pulled a board free, examining it for a moment. “Would this work for a shelf, do you think?” he asked, holding it towards Bruce for inspection. 

“Yeah, maybe one of the side pieces. Depends on how tall you want it to be,” Bruce said. “What’re you making a shelf for?” 

“Cheri,” Peter began, “brought a lot of CDs with her, and there isn’t any shelf space in the apartment right now, which means I have to make some. I figured I’d give woodworking a shot.” He pulled out a different piece of wood, decided he liked it better, and placed it off to the side. 

Bruce lifted an eyebrow, but did not ask Peter why he didn’t just buy a ready-to-assemble one from the store. Instead, he said, “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” and went back to examining his blueprints. 

“So, what’s up with the Stark Tower break in?” Peter asked after a couple of minutes of silence, during which he’d found three planks he thought might work for the shelves themselves, if he cut them down a bit. “Anything new?” 

“Mm, not really,” Bruce replied, tilting his head a bit to read a scrawl of handwriting in a blank space of the blueprint. “Nat’s still trying to find a missing part of the security footage, and Steve spotted a black speck on what we do have that might be part of whatever our guy used to get into the Tower.”

“So, he did come in through that window?” Peter asked, and Bruce nodded. “Weird.”

“Yes, it is,” Bruce said, and he looked at Peter from over the blueprint. “The weirdest part is that Tony still isn’t committing to finding out who it was that broke in in the first place.” 

Peter frowned a little to himself. “Maybe he just… doesn’t feel like it’s necessary,” he said. “They didn’t hurt anybody, and they didn’t mess with S.I.”

Bruce shook his head. “It doesn’t - that isn’t the point.”

“No, I know,” Peter said, “but to Mr. Stark, it probably is.” 

“It shouldn’t be,” Bruce said after a moment, and he turned back to the blueprints. 

Peter inhaled, and picked up the planks that he’d chosen. He then carried them over to the table that had the power saw attached to it, and set them down, reaching for the closest tape measurer. 

“Do you have a plan?” Bruce asked. “Beyond the shelf, I mean?” 

“Like, size and stuff?” Peter lifted his shoulders. “I’ll figure it out as I go.”

Bruce watched him for a moment, before shaking his head and pulling out his phone. He sent off a quick text message, then set his phone down on the worktable. He picked the blueprints back up, and went back to work. 

Several minutes later, the door to the workshop opened again, and in walked Steve and Bucky both. Peter glanced up. “Hey, guys,” he greeted. 

“Heard you were building a shelf,” Steve said, walking over to where he stood next to the power saw table. 

Peter looked at Bruce, who did not glance up from the blueprints, although he did smile to himself, a little. Peter made a face, and then looked at Steve again. 

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, and he gestured. “Just… trying to do some measurements, right now.” 

Bucky picked up one of the planks of wood, eyeing the marks Peter had made with a charcoal pencil, and then he lifted an eyebrow, glancing at Steve, who grinned. Bucky looked at Peter. “You sure that’s what you’re doing, here?” he asked. 

Peter’s shoulders fell. “I mean, it’s what I was _ trying _ to do.” 

“Then it’d probably be easier if the measurements were actually even,” Bucky said, and he held out his other hand for the pencil. Peter passed it over, frowning at Bruce, who still did not look up. 

After a few seconds, Bucky set the pencil down, took a look at the different marks he’d made, and nodded to himself. “That’s better.” 

“Have you ever used a power saw, Peter?” Steve asked, taking the plank from him and setting it down near the saw. 

“Uh… no,” Peter admitted. 

“Then it’d probably be smart of us to let you watch, and then maybe you can give it a shot on the next one,” Steve said, and he flipped the saw on. It revved, and Peter took a small step backwards, wary of wooden shards. Steve chuckled, and slid the plank against the saw, cutting along the line that Bucky had marked. 

“There,” Steve said, turning the saw off again and holding the plank up for inspection. “Easy as that.”

“Sure, easy,” Peter said agreeably, and he stepped forward again. “Uh - you just… didn’t even bother with goggles, so that’s… that’s cool.” 

Steve smiled, and looked over at Bruce, who lifted a thumb in response. 

“Here, Buck, you do the next one, and if Peter wants, let him cut one of the shelves,” Steve suggested, and then he stepped away from the table and walked towards Bruce. Bruce set the blueprints down, and glanced at Steve as he leaned back against the table, crossing his arms. 

“I took another look at the footage, but I think whatever that black shape is will be the only thing we can get from what we have,” Steve said. 

“Right.” Bruce shifted, the stool he sat on creaking with the movement. “If Nat can’t recover the missing footage, do we have an alternate plan?”

Steve exhaled, and shrugged. “I don’t really know what the alternative could be. We need that footage; we aren’t going to be able to do much with a pixelated image of part of… whatever that thing is.” 

“Yeah,” Bruce sighed, and he rubbed at his eyes. “Then… maybe if we can’t get the footage, we go Tony’s route and just… forget it happened.”

Steve looked sideways at him. “You don’t meant that.”

“I don’t know, Steve, maybe I do,” Bruce responded. “I mean, it was Tony’s tower that was broken into -“ 

“The floors we lived on in the first Tower,” Steve tried. 

“- so maybe we should just do what he wants,” Bruce concluded, speaking over him. Steve shook his head, turning away again, and Bruce clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry, Cap, I just… maybe this isn’t a job for the Avengers. Maybe this is something that we have to let Tony take control of, because his property was involved, not ours.” 

Steve started to respond, but then Peter yelped, startling both of them. However, a moment later, Bucky chuckled and said, “You have to hang on to it, kid, not just let it go on it’s own.” 

“I _ really _ think we should be wearing goggles,” was Peter’s mumbled response. 

Steve smiled a little, and Bruce exhaled a breath of relief. It seemed the conversation was tabled, for now. He doubted it would be for long, especially when Natasha came to them with her verdict on the security footage.


	8. A Kidnapping In Central Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how the Peter tingle works, but... y'know. I'm already taking so many other liberties, what's one more?

**September 12th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 2:31 PM**

Cheri dropped her bag onto the floor and flopped down face-first onto the bed with a heavy exhalation. Peter turned around in his desk chair, and looked at her. After a moment, he smiled, and joined her on the bed. With his legs on either side of her, he began to massage her shoulders. 

“Thanks,” Cheri said, her voice muffled against the mattress. 

“If you’re already acting like this, and you’ve been back one day, I can only imagine massages will be a frequent thing,” Peter replied, pressing his knuckles between her shoulder blades. 

Cheri turned her head sideways. “How much would everyone hate me if I decided to drop out with a single semester of classes left?” 

Peter made a contemplative noise. “I don’t know. It’ll probably vary between people, but if I had to guess… you’d hate yourself the most,” he said, moving his hands to her shoulders again. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Cheri mumbled, and she turned her face back into the mattress. “Still, if the first day was like_ this, _ I am not looking forward to the rest of the semester.”

“You probably just feel overwhelmed, with all of the syllabi and stuff you got today,” Peter told her.. “I think you’ll feel better before the week’s over.”

“I have a _ capstone _ this semester,” Cheri said. “ _ Plus _ three different classes for different instruments, on top of a composition class.” 

Peter let his hands go still for a moment, considering this. “Yeah,” he said, and went back to massaging. “You’ll feel better at the end of the week.”

Cheri cursed, and he smiled again, leaning into the movement. Cheri groaned, slightly, and shifted beneath him. “Not so hard,” she said, turning her head to the side again. “Superhuman strength, remember.”

“Right, sorry,” Peter replied, and he eased up a bit. They sat in silence for several minutes, while Peter worked the tension out of her back. After some time, he leaned forward and kissed the base of her neck, before sliding off of her. “Better?” he asked, leaving one hand in place, rubbing the spot where it rested. 

“Yeah,” Cheri said, and she sat up. “Thank you, really. I needed that.”

Peter nodded. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“How was work?” Cheri asked him, hanging her legs off the edge of the bed in order to pull off her shoes. Peter shrugged. 

“It was work, I guess. Mr. Stark’s really pushing R&D to figure out something that’s going on with the next mark of the StarkPads. There’s an issue with the software, somewhere, I guess, but we haven’t been able to find it.”

“Mm, maybe you should have him look at it,” Cheri replied, reaching for her bag. She tugged it onto the bed, and flipped it open, and pulled out a folder. “If you can’t find a problem in the software, maybe it isn’t the software at all.”

“Yeah, we’ve considered that, but… y’know. He’s asking us to quadruple check, so.” Peter frowned as she pulled out what looked to be fifteen pieces of paper. “Sheesh.”

Cheri snorted. “Yeah, exactly. This is the reason I appreciated the massage.” She exhaled a breath. “Stupid…”

“Hey, it’s all right,” Peter said, reaching over and grabbing her shoulder, lightly. Cheri bowed her head. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured her. “Seriously. It’s the first day.”

“Exactly. The first day looks like this.” Cheri dumped her bag out onto the bed, and Peter stared down at everything that fell out of it, before looking at her. She gestured to the pile of notebooks and papers. “If _ this _is the first day, the semester can only get worse, right?” 

“No, I think that… this is probably as bad as it can be, so it can only get better,” Peter responded. 

Cheri stared at him for a moment, and then she started to laugh, hiding her face in her hands. “Jesus,” she said through her giggles. “Your optimism never ceases to amaze me.”

“It’s one of my many talents, I guess,” Peter said, smiling as well. He reached over and took her wrist in his hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s get out of here for awhile, hm?” he suggested, and Cheri lifted her head to look over at him. “Seriously. Some fresh air would do us both good, I think.”

Cheri sighed to herself. “I just took my shoes off,” she said, and Peter smiled.

**Central Park, New York, NY, USA - 3:02 PM**

A little while later, the two of them were seated on a bench in Central Park. They watched as a pair of joggers went by, both wearing headphones although clearly jogging together. Cheri gestured to them. “You think they’re listening to music or a podcast?”

Peter watch them go, head tilted. “I’d say the dude’s listening to a podcast,” he said after a moment. “The girl’s bobbing her head; she’s listening to music.”

Cheri nodded in agreement. Her hand found his, even though she didn’t bother looking down, and Peter smiled to himself. 

“We should do this more,” she said after a moment. “Just… sit, people watch.”

“I feel like that’s something old people do,” Peter replied, and Cheri snickered. “Seriously, I bet if we walked up the path, we’d pass an elderly couple sitting on a bench, just like we are, watching people walk by.” 

“I mean, there’s an appeal to it,” Cheri said. Peter shook his head, smiling a little. “Could we get some ice cream?” 

“Yeah,” Peter answered, and he stood, pulling her to her feet as well. “There’s usually a stand open near the fountain.”

Cheri nodded, and walked beside him as they headed up the path. A couple of pigeons fluttered across the path in front of them into a tree. A lady pushing a stroller jogged past in the opposite direction. A dog walker, holding four separate leashes, stood at the edge of the path, trying to encourage one of the dogs he was in charge of to leave a certain patch of grass alone. 

“New York,” Cheri said, finally, and Peter nodded in agreement. 

“It’s home,” he said. 

They reached the ice cream stand, and got in line behind a man holding the hand of a little girl, and Peter frowned a little to himself, noting the grip that the man had on her hand. It looked to be very tight, and Peter had to wonder why, considering she didn’t seem to be making any attempt to get away from him. Peter shifted. 

Cheri glanced up at him, obviously sensing his discontent. “What’s the matter?” she murmured. 

“I don’t know, but something,” he responded. 

“All right, Janie,” the man in front of them said, tugging the little girl forward. “What kind of ice cream do you want?” 

Peter examined the two of them for a moment longer, and noticed the reminiscences of tear streaks on the girl’s cheeks. He suddenly understood what the tight grip on her hand had to be about, and he leaned down to speak in Cheri’s ear. 

“I think this guy kidnapped that little girl.” 

Cheri blinked, but otherwise gave no outward sign of surprise or fear, which Peter appreciated. He turned his gaze back to the man and the girl, watched as the ice cream vendor handed him two popsicles. The man tried to give one to the girl, who did not take it, leaving the man to force it into her hand. He then grabbed the other again and pulled her away from the stand. 

“Yeah, okay,” Peter murmured, setting his shoulders. “Call the police.” 

Cheri moved forward to order, like there was nothing wrong, and Peter stepped away from the stand, tracking the man’s movements. He pulled the little girl along after him towards a park bench, and then sat her down on it, sitting down next to her. He placed his arm around her shoulders, ensuring that she wouldn’t be able to move away from him, and Peter saw red. 

He casually headed towards the park bench, pausing a few steps away, pretending to admire a nearby statue. While he did so, he listened in on what the man was saying to the girl. 

“Just eat the popsicle, and then we’re going,” he grumbled. “Remember, you don’t want your daddy to get hurt, right?” 

Peter saw the little girl shake her head immediately, and she gingerly took a bite out of the popsicle. He doubted that this man actually posed a threat to her father; no doubt he’d shown up at her school, told her that she needed to come with him in order to keep her dad safe. Fuck, he hated these kinds of sick assholes. 

“Hey,” he said, speaking up and walking closer to the park bench. 

“Hey yourself,” the man said, gazing at him coolly. 

Peter crouched down in front of the little girl, tilting his head for a moment, as though studying her. She gazed back at him, eyes wide with fear. Peter smiled, and said, “I think you go to school with my little brother. Jane, right?” 

She blinked, and then nodded hesitantly. Peter glanced at the man. “This your dad?” he asked. 

“No,” the man said before Jane could respond. “I’m a friend of the family. Her father asked me to pick her up from school.” 

Peter lifted an eyebrow, and looked back at Jane. “Did you know this guy was gonna pick you up?” he asked her, and he noticed the man’s grip around her shoulders tighten, just a little. The hair on he back of his neck stood up, and he tensed, preparing himself for a fight. 

“Y-yes,” Jane mumbled, looking down at the popsicle, which was starting to drip. 

Peter stood up straight again after a moment, and looked at the man. “She’s kind of tense, huh? Bad day at school?” 

“Heck if I know,” the man said. “I’m useless when it comes to kids.” 

Peter hummed. “Weird, then, that her parents would ask you to pick her up.” 

The man stiffened. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know if you make it a habit of talking to strangers in the park, but maybe it’s time for you to go,” he said. 

“Here’s your ice cream,” Cheri said, appearing next to him. “Our friends are on their way.” She looked at Jane, and smiled. “Hey there. Popsicle, huh?” Jane nodded after a moment, and Cheri wiggled the popsicle she held back and forth. “Yeah, me too,” she said. 

The man was obviously losing his patience, now, and if he hadn’t been so very obviously keeping a grip on the girl, Peter would have moved away, and tailed them. They needed to stay put, however, until the cops arrived. 

“What grade are you in?” Cheri asked Jane. 

“Fourth,” Jane said softly, and Cheri smiled. 

“Oh, see, that’s what I thought.” She nudged Peter in the side. “His little brother’s in fourth grade too.” She looked at the man. “His parents really wanted another baby, but couldn’t have one, and so they adopted.” 

“That’s nice,” the man said, although he definitely did not sound like he thought so. “Are you done with your popsicle yet, Jane?” 

“Jane, what a beautiful name,” Cheri gushed. She leaned towards the girl. “I bet your mom picked that out, huh?” 

“I - I think so,” Jane replied hesitantly. “What’s your name?” 

“Cheri,” Cheri told her. “My mom picked my name, too.” 

Peter hadn’t imagined that his love for Cheri could get any stronger than it had been, but standing next to her, waiting for the cops to arrive, listening to her stall in order to keep the two of them near Jane and the man who had kidnapped her, he knew that he’d been completely wrong. 

He heard the whirring of the police siren before any of the others, and glanced over as the car parked nearby. Two uniformed officers climbed from it, and jogged towards them, looking around. 

“Ah, our friends,” Cheri said, and she went over to talk to them. After a moment, all three returned to the park bench. Peter’s senses were going nuts, now, and he kept a close eye on the man as one of the cops crouched down in front of Jane. 

“Hey, kiddo,” she began. “My name’s Officer Gonzalez. What’s yours?” 

“Jane Fletcher,” Jane replied, looking more relieved with each passing second, even though the man’s grip around her was unforgiving. 

“Jane, we got a call that you might need our help,” Officer Gonzalez said to her. “Do you need our help?” 

Jane licked her lips, popsicle long forgotten and dripping onto her knee. She glanced up at the man, and then at Cheri, before looking at the officer. “I think my daddy does,” she said. 

“Why’s that?” Officer Gonzalez prompted. 

“Mr. Bishop said that if I didn’t go with him, Daddy would get hurt,” Jane explained. Office Gonzalez glanced briefly at the man, and Peter noticed his fist clench on top of his thigh. 

“This is Mr. Bishop?” Gonzalez asked Jane, who nodded. Gonzalez stood up straight again, and said, “Sir, I’ll need to ask you to relinquish your grip on the child at once, and put your hands on your head for me.” 

Bishop pursed his lips, but let go of Jane, who scooted off of the bench and hurried towards Cheri, hiding behind her. Cheri looked at Peter, who nodded in response, turning his attention back to the officers. Gonzalez had moved behind the bench, forcing Bishop into a standing position. She pulled his hands behind his back. Peter’s senses flared up, and a moment later, Bishop had head-butted Gonzalez, and was booking it away from them. 

Peter was faster. He chased Bishop for maybe three seconds before tackling him to the grass, pulling his arms behind his back. Bishop struggled beneath him, cursing wildly. Gonzalez’s partner rushed up, quickly snapping some cuffs onto Bishop’s wrist, and then Peter helped him haul the asshole to his feet. 

“Thanks,” the other officer said, studying him. “You military or something?”

“Or something,” Peter replied, smiling. 

“Well, whatever it is, we could use a kid like you on the force,” the cop told him. 

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully at the prospect. “Mm,” he hummed. “Maybe.”

The cop marched Bishop away towards the patrol vehicle, and Peter returned to the park bench, where Cheri had sat down with Jane, and Gonzalez was talking into her radio. After a moment, the officer approached the three of them. 

“The station’s getting in touch with her parents,” she said to Peter and Cheri. “I can wait here with her, until they come.” She smiled. “I don’t know how you knew that something was going on, but I’m glad you did. Thanks for calling us.” 

“Of course,” Cheri said, standing up. She looked down at Jane, and smiled. “You were very brave, Jane. I hope that you remember how brave you were today, whenever you feel scared. Okay?”

Jane nodded, and Cheri squeezed her hand, before moving to join Peter. He slipped his arm around her waist, and they walked away together as Gonzalez settled down on the bench with Jane. 

Once they were a good enough distance away, Cheri let out a sharp breath of air, and Peter felt her begin to shake. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, moving to stand in front of her. “Breathe, Cher. Everything’s fine.” 

Cheri inhaled, and then exhaled, her eyes falling shut. Peter led her off of the path, noticing a couple of people looking at them funny, and then he pulled her into his chest, holding her gently. 

“It’s all right,” he murmured, pressing his face against the top of her head. “You did so good, Cheri. I wouldn’t have been able to help that girl without you there.” 

“Just -” Cheri shook her head, gripping at the back of his shirt like a lifeline. “What if that guy had pulled a gun, shot you, or her? I don’t -” She cut herself off, hiding her face against his chest. “I don’t know how you can do this all the time, Pete.”

Peter lifted his head. “But we handled it, right?” he asked her, resting his chin on the top of her head instead. “Seriously, we saved that little girl, and nothing went wrong. It’s okay.” 

“What if something _ had _gone wrong, though?” Cheri asked, her voice breaking. 

Peter exhaled. Anxiety. He understood what she had to be feeling, and it probably didn’t help that her adrenaline had to be at peak levels right about now. It didn’t matter that the situation was concluded; she’d be thinking about ways it could have gone wrong for awhile. She’d probably have nightmares about it. He knew that he used to have nightmares almost all the time, about attempts to help going horrifically sideways. The thought of those nightmares almost made him shiver. 

“I’m not going to lie to you, say that nothing’s ever gone wrong while I’m doing the superhero thing,” Peter started, “because things _ do _ go wrong, all the time. But as long as I help the person who’s in danger, then it doesn’t matter to me, because I can take a lot worse than they can.” 

Cheri lifted her head, and Peter wiped a few tears off her cheeks as she said, “But… why does it have to be _ you?” _

_ And there it is. _ She’d done a good job of separating Peter from Spider-Man so far, ever since he’d told her that he was a superhero, but he’d always known that the conversation of him putting himself in danger on a regular basis would come up eventually. Even if he wore a mask, and the people he was helping didn’t know who he was, that did not mean he wasn’t Peter Parker while fighting crime. When Spider-Man got hurt, Peter did, and Cheri couldn’t stand the thought of that. 

Peter couldn’t stand the thought of her worrying about him, of seeing that the line between superhero and regular person did not exist, when it came to physical injuries. She always had, he realized now, and had just never brought it up before, probably for his sake, and for the sake of all the people he helped. Now that she’d been face to face with him in a dangerous situation, however, she couldn’t keep the fear to herself anymore. She had to say something, to remind him that Peter Parker _ was _ Spider-Man, and that scared the hell out of her. Cheri’s shaking, her tears, had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been part of the situation as well. It all centered around the fact that she had seen him face off against a potentially dangerous criminal, and could no longer pretend that when he put a mask on, he became someone else. 

And Peter had no idea how to help her rectify with that. 

He inhaled, and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It has to be me because it _ can _ be,” he told her, softly. She looked up at him, and he brushed a curl behind her ear. “I have the ability to stop things like that from happening, to stop _ worse _ things from happening, and if I didn’t, and they happened and people were hurt because of it, it’s all my fault.” 

“You’re not the only superhero in New York,” Cheri murmured. 

“No, I’m not,” Peter agreed, “but I’m one of them. And if I don’t do my part to help, then… what’s the point? Why waste what I have, when I can put it to use?”

Cheri glanced between his eyes for a moment, before exhaling a breath, and hugging him again, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “Why do you have to be so selfless?” she whispered. 

Peter smiled a little at the question. “Because so few people are,” he told her. “I gotta pick up the slack.” 

Cheri released a small chuckle, and turned her head, placing a chaste kiss on his neck. “Just - fuck, I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “Don’t stop crime in front of me again, I guess.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” Peter told her, and then he slid his hands down her arms, until he could take one of hers. “Let’s get going.”

Cheri nodded in agreement, and they returned to the path. As they walked, Cheri frowned a little to herself, and glanced around. “Where’d your ice cream go?” she asked after a moment. 

“I dunno,” Peter replied honestly. “Stuff just kind of happens in situations like that, and I don’t remember a lot of it.”

Cheri looked at him for a moment, before shaking her head and facing forward again, tightening her grip on his hand. “Maybe we won’t people watch more often after all,” she decided. 

Peter smiled a bit. “Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t,” he agreed.

He also decided, then, that he needed to talk to Tony, ask for any advice he could give on being in a relationship while also fighting crime. He supposed that if anyone could help, it would be his mentor.


	9. The Second Email

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very sus, but like, less sus than the first one.

_ To: _ _ hto.31@osmail.com _ _   
_ _ From: _ _ nvo.14@osmail.com _

_ Subject: The Park _

_ H - _

_ Did you hear anything back from Bishop on how it went? We both know the gas is colorless and odorless, but we need to ensure that no one notices it. If there’s been no confirmation from Bishop, we might have an issue, so tell me as soon as you hear something. _

_ If there were injuries in the fire, it doesn’t matter, since that option is off the table, with the bird man being the one to look into it. He’s not the one we’re after, and he’s no doubt going to be very disappointed when he discovers nothing relating to the first fire, and when there is no second one. So much for arson. _

_ If Bishop had issues, a different plan will need to be executed. N and C may be involved whether you want them to be or not. The gas should not harm them, and if you think it does, tell me and we’ll make an alteration. That part is not an issue. _

_ Also keep me updated on whether or not a change has started in S-M. I don’t want to be wasting our time and resources on a gas that isn’t even working, despite your assurances that it would. If it doesn’t, you’ll need to fix it immediately. Do not disappoint me. We’ve already waited long enough. _

_ _ \- D _ _


	10. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did the tagged canon universe divergence take place? We're about to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FORGOT IT WAS MONDAY I'M SO SORRY.

**September 13th, 2023 - Stark Tower - Broadway & W 58th St., New York, NY, USA - 12:30 PM**

Tony had made it a point to have lunch with Peter at least one day a week, once he’d realized that Peter was starting to let his work ethic get ahead of his well being. It helped them both, really, since doing so made sure that Tony ate lunch as well, now that Cheri wasn’t around to force some type of meal in front of him. 

On this particular day, Cheri had prepared them some pretty tasty breakfast burritos to chow down on, since she hadn’t had morning classes, and Peter carted them up to Tony’s office to hang out in his mini-fridge until lunchtime. Once noon rolled around, he traversed upstairs, they microwaved the burritos, and then moved to the front room of the penthouse to eat. 

They talked about work for a little while, discussing the StarkPad issue, which Peter reported didn’t seem to be getting any closer to being solved. Tony shrugged it off, deciding that since they’d just released the Mark X of the StarkPhone, they could hold off on launching the StarkPad until the issue was resolved. Whatever the issue was; Tony had honestly forgotten the specifics. 

After that, they sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying their food. That was something Tony could never get over, about whatever Cheri cooked; it _ always _ tasted good, even after it had needed to be microwaved. Some food was unrecoverable, after being left in the fridge for a while, but that was never an issue with _ anything _ Cheri cooked. It was some kind of magic. Or maybe it was her superpower. Why not, Tony supposed. 

After several minutes of silence, however, Peter shifted on the couch.Tony glanced at him, sensing that he was about to start a conversation. 

“So,” he began, and Tony set his burrito down, in order to give Peter his complete attention. “Uh, Cheri and I helped a little girl who’d been kidnapped yesterday.”

“Good for you,” Tony said, smiling. 

“Yeah, uh, it was great,” Peter said. “But… afterwards, Cheri kind of had an emotional breakdown? Because she saw me, Peter, faced with a dangerous situation, when before, she’d sort of had a line drawn between me and Spider-Man? But I think that, after yesterday, that line is kind of… like, gone? Completely irrelevant? And she took it hard. So I was just… I wanted to ask if you ever, I don’t know, had to deal with that sort of thing, and how you did it.”

Tony blinked for a moment. Not what he’d been expecting, but… he could handle it.

“Okay,” he said, gathering his thoughts as he did so. “Uh… Pepper’s really the only example I can think of, and she always knew that I was Iron Man. Her issue came from the fact that I put myself in danger without… apparently caring that I was putting myself in danger? So, for her, that line never existed.” 

Peter sighed. “That’s what I was thinking you’d say. Never mind, then.”

“No, hold on, I can still give advice,” Tony said, holding up his hands. Peter looked at him, and Tony thought it over for a moment before he said, “Just… don’t do anything so stupid that you know she’ll never forgive you for it. That’s kind of what ended my relationship with Pepper before it could even begin, and I don’t want that to happen to the two of you, okay?” 

Peter frowned. “How am I supposed to know what’s too stupid?” he asked, and Tony let out a soft laugh. 

“When you’re about to do it, and then you hear Cheri’s voice in your head, telling you that you’d better not, Peter Parker.” Peter smiled as well. “See? You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, I do,” Peter agreed, and he exhaled. “Okay. Thanks, Mr. Stark.” 

“Also, don’t give her an oversized stuffed rabbit for Christmas,” Tony added as an afterthought, reaching for his burrito once more. Peter raised an eyebrow, and Tony shook his head. “Extravagant gifts won’t make her forgive you for doing something stupid. They’ll probably just make her mad, actually, so just… don’t.”

“I don’t think I even want to know how you learned that lesson,” Peter said after a moment. 

“Yeah, you don’t,” Tony agreed, biting into the burrito. Peter glanced down at his own half-finished food, obviously thinking hard about something. Tony chewed for a moment, swallowed, and said, “All right, what else? Spit it out, while we’re still young.”

Peter grinned, looking at him. “I think we’re past that point, don’t you?” he asked, and Tony reached over, swatting the back of his head. 

“Not funny,” he scolded, and he relaxed into the couch cushion. “What else is on your mind?” 

Peter’s grin faded. “I don’t - I don’t know if you’ll want to talk about it,” he admitted. 

“Well, you won’t know unless you ask, so go ahead,” Tony said, pushing the last bit of burrito into his mouth and dusting off his hands. 

Peter raised and lowered his shoulders, and set his burrito down, turning to look at Tony head-on. “What… what happened exactly, with Pepper?” he asked. “I mean, you guys were fine, before… before _ it _ happened, and then everything was fine, _ except _for you guys.”

That familiar ache made itself known in Tony’s chest, and he turned his gaze away for a moment, breathing inwards slowly. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He heard Peter shift on the couch. “Then it’s okay,” he said, quietly. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I -” Tony cut himself off, shook his head. “It’s been five years. I expected you to ask, eventually, and I’m glad you didn’t do so immediately, because I probably would’ve… well. It wouldn’t have been pretty.” He turned to look at Peter again. “Just… it’s taken me a long time to… not get over what happened, necessarily, because I could never do that, but… actually realize that what happened was for the greater good, and that’s… that’s what we do as heroes, right? Make choices for the majority, when they need us to.”

Peter looked worried, a crease between his eyebrows. “Mr. Stark, you’re kind of rambling,” he said, and Tony chuckled. 

“Yeah, that’s… that’s what I do,” he said, almost whispering it, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, okay. Before… before Thanos’s minions showed up, that day.” He glanced at Peter to make sure he knew what day he was talking about, and Peter nodded, encouraging him to continue. “Uh… Pepper had been planning to tell me something, but then she couldn’t, because of the arrival of the aliens. Then we went to space, and you… went away, and I was stuck in space for 22 days. When I got _ back, _ I was… not in a good place? Because of what had happened on Titan. And I just - it was bad, for awhile. I didn’t do _ anything _ to help the others try to fix what had gone wrong.” 

Hearing this, the crease in Peter’s forehead deepened. “You didn’t want to bring us back?” he asked, sounding hurt, and Tony immediately shook his head. 

“That wasn’t it at all, kid,” he said. “Just… we’d been beaten. I’d been, y’know, thrown into the ocean with a cinder block tied around my legs. I had to save myself before I could think about saving anyone else, which was difficult.” He smiled, and it hurt to do so, inside and out. “But then there was Morgan.”

Peter blinked. “Morgan,” he repeated, and Tony nodded. Peter thought about it for a second, and then his eyes widened. “Holy shit, Pepper was pregnant. That’s what she’d wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed, softly. “That’s what it was.” He licked his lips, ran his hand through his hair. “With Morgan, I felt like… like I’d finally found what I’d been missing. She was adorable, so smart, and she grew up, for five years, became a person while I watched, and I could never get over the fact that I was helping her do that. That’d I’d been a part of creating something so spectacular, in every way.” He inhaled, eyes burning with tears he’d long since trained himself to hold back, and murmured, “God, I loved her so much.” 

Peter did not speak, even when Tony paused for a moment to steady his breathing. Tony half appreciated it, and half wished Peter _ would _ say something, tell him he didn’t have to keep going, maybe. Peter didn’t, however, and Tony figured that if he’d come this far, he may as well tell the whole thing. 

“So, I watched my daughter grow up, married Pep, y’know. It was all good. I didn’t see or talk to any of the others for those five years, because I didn’t see the point. Everyone was gone, people were moving on. I had moved on.” He suddenly wished he had a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Until Lang showed up, talking about the quantum realm, and the idea of time travel was brought to the table. Steve, Nat, they came to me, asking for my help, and at first, I didn’t want to give it. Y’know? How could I risk what I’d gained in moving on, in order to do something that would help the entire world?” 

Peter studied him. “So… what changed?” he asked. 

Tony closed his eyes for a moment. “It was actually something you said, when we first met,” he said. He opened his eyes, looked at Peter. “You told me that you helped fight crime because you knew that when a person has the ability to do something, and they don’t, and bad stuff happens, that bad stuff is on them. And I… I couldn’t… I don’t know. I had to do what I could, because what was I, one person out of seven billion, compared to the 3.5 billion that had been lost?” 

“You didn’t… you had to have wanted to come back to your family, though, right?” Peter asked, and Tony nodded. 

“Of course I did. It was the one thing I said to Steve, when I decided to help. I told him that I _ couldn’t _ lose what I’d found.” He paused for a moment, swallowed. “I didn’t… what ended up needing to happen didn’t necessarily mean that I _ lost _ what I found. It meant that I’d never found it in the first place.”

Peter waited, and Tony sighed. “We had to go back, get the Infinity Stones from different places in time where we’d encountered them, prior to Thanos showing up,” he explained. “Doing that kind of messed with the continuity of the timeline we were trying to alter, and I guess we changed enough things to the point where I never ended up in a serious relationship with Pepper. We took our own version of the gauntlet into battle, maybe a month after the snap had happened, and brought everyone back, but that was it. We couldn’t change any of the things we’d already messed with, because we had no idea if that would mean everyone disappearing again.” 

“So you didn’t…” Peter looked down for a moment. “Technically, then, in this… version of events, you were never together with Pepper.” Tony nodded. “And she doesn’t know about the five years that passed after the snap in the other version?” 

“No,” Tony said. “She doesn’t know about any of the original events, because of how we had to make changes. No one who wasn’t part of the plan does. The people who disappeared, aside from you and the others who might have been affected by the Infinity Stones being taken, they remembered what originally happened, before we changed things. That’s why you remember my relationship with Pepper, even though it technically didn’t happen.” 

Tony rested his forehead in his hand, urging an oncoming headache to stay away, at least until the conversation ended. “It’s - it was easier, knowing that _ technically, _ in the universe we’d created by gathering the Infinity Stones, in _ this _universe, Morgan had never even been a concept, but it still… I still miss her. Everyday. Pepper, too.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered after a moment of silence. “I - if there was something I could do -”

Tony shook his head. “Pete, there is… no way that I would take back what we did,” he said. “We brought everyone back, even if we lost some of the things we’d found in the process. I’ve struggled for a very long time to actually get that concept through to myself, and I only recently managed to, with Bruce’s help.” 

He looked at Peter, smiling gently. “Would I try to make it so that I wouldn’t have lost Morgan, if I had the chance? Absolutely. But… there was always going to need to be a sacrifice or two, and compared to some alternatives, not ever knowing her, not ever even _ considering _ the possibility of having her, technically, seems like a reasonable one. Even though that isn’t true for me, but it _ is _ true for Pepper, and that helps.”

Peter gazed at him for a moment, and then he suddenly scooted across the couch, wrapped his arms tightly around Tony in a hug. He pressed his face into Tony’s shoulder, and Tony could feel him shaking a little. 

“I’m so sorry,” Peter murmured.

Tony hugged him back, holding a hand against the back of his head. “Hey,” he said, quietly, “everything that I’ve been able to watch you do, these last few years, having you back, Pete, it - you’re worth it, okay? Everyone we brought back was worth it, but you especially.” He closed his eyes, holding Peter close. “You’re doing such amazing things, and I can’t stand the thought of you not having been able to do them because I was selfish, so don’t… don’t think that you shouldn’t have been factored into the equation, okay? You or anyone else.” 

Peter sniffled, and Tony turned his head to press a brief kiss to his temple. “Okay?” he asked after a moment, and felt Peter nod. “Okay.” Still, the hug continued, Peter clearly unwilling to move away, and Tony exhaled a breath. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you too,” Peter mumbled. “Sorry you had to relive all that.”

“It was bound to happen sometime,” Tony replied, “although maybe it would have been easier if it hadn’t been during our lunch break.”

Peter let out a quiet laugh, and finally pulled out of the hug, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his hand. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Make jokes.”

“Right, yeah, that’s something I need to stop doing,” Tony agreed. “Hiding my pain behind bad jokes.”

“Cheri does that, too,” Peter told him. “It’s kind of annoying, because sometimes I can’t tell whether or not it’s a genuine joke.” 

“Mm, she’s very obviously a master of the joke-telling-to-hide-real-feelings art,” Tony said, rubbing his chin. “I may need to ask her for pointers, because I feel as though I’ve lost my touch.” Peter did not smile, and Tony gestured. “See, that’s how I know.”

“I really am sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter murmured, and Tony’s shoulders fell. 

“You shouldn’t be,” he said. “Not your fault, in any capacity. It’s no one’s fault, it was just the way that it went.” He paused. “Like Strange said; one victory out of fourteen million something, right?” 

Peter nodded after a moment, his shoulders falling. “I guess everyone else knows, then? I mean, Doc, and Cap. Nat?” 

“Yeah, they know,” Tony replied. “And they were just as sorry as you are, but like I said: it’s what had to happen in order to make it right for everyone else.” He paused for a moment, thinking it over, and then he tapped Peter on the shoulder. “Superhero thing.” 

Peter was silent for a moment, and Tony thought he could guess what he was thinking about, just by looking at him. How well he knew the kid was proven when Peter inhaled, and looked at him. 

“Mr. Stark, I - do you mind if I call May, really quick? And Cheri, too.” 

“You don’t need to ask,” Tony said with a small smile, and he stood up, stretching, gathering up some of the trash from lunch. “I’m gonna get back to work. Stay up here for as long as you need to, okay?”

Peter nodded. Tony reached down to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly, before heading towards his office. Peter watched him go, inhaling slowly, then he pulled out his phone. 

“Peter!” May sounded pleasantly surprised, but also a little worried, to be getting a call from him. “Aren’t you at work?”

“I’m on my lunch break,” Peter told her. “Uh… I just wanted to call, tell you that… uhm.” He had to pause as his throat constricted, and May spoke from the other end, her voice soothing. 

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she said. Peter was relieved to know how well she knew him, that she understood what he’d wanted to say. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter managed, although it came out as a whisper. “Thank you.”

May laughed a little. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, okay? Have a good rest of your day at work.”

“I will,” Peter said. “Uh, would it be okay if I visited this weekend?”

“Of course,” May told him, and he could hear her smiling. “I’d love to see you. Bring Cheri too, if she wants. ‘Kay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you more, Peter,” May responded. “Bye.”

Peter lowered his phone, breathing consciously as he reached up and pressed his hands into his eyes for a moment. He didn’t ever like to think about May, when she’d realized that he was one of the people to go when everyone disappeared, but sometimes, the thoughts managed to creep in, and he always ended up feeling awful, for not calling her more, not telling her how much he appreciated her. 

That was it, though, wasn’t it? May already knew all about it, but hearing it from Peter no doubt made her day. 

He sniffled, and let his hands fall to his lap again. He gazed down at his phone for a moment, thinking about the time and whether or not Cheri was in class yet. He was pretty sure she didn’t have one until 1:30, and decided calling her was worth the risk.

She answered on the third ring, sounding a little out of breath. Peter guessed she was walking to campus. “Pete? What’s going on?”

Right. He didn’t call her during the day anymore, because they lived together, and he really didn’t need to. But a text message would not have sufficed, in this case. He’d wanted to hear her voice. 

“Nothing's going on,” he said, and he smiled. “Just wanted to… y’know, wish you luck, with today’s classes.”

“Thanks,” Cheri said, laughing a little, probably because she thought he was ridiculous. Peter could live with that, as long as he could hold onto the memory of that laugh, and imagine her expression that came with it. He could see her face in his mind’s eye, as clearly as he could see the penthouse around him, and he was so grateful that he could do that, could picture her. Could love her. 

“Anything else?” Cheri asked him, bringing him back. “Did you guys like the burritos?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah, they were awesome.” 

“Good,” Cheri said. “All right, Pete, you know I can’t talk on the phone and walk at the same time, so if I don’t hang up, I might be late.”

“Right, sorry,” Peter said, straightening up. 

“You don’t have to be,” Cheri told him, and he recognized the tone of her voice. It was the one she used when she thought about how much she loved him, even though he could be kind of silly, sometimes. It was one of his favorite cadences. “I’ll see you tonight, okay? Tell Mr. Stark I said hi.” She paused, and he could hear her voice shift as she smiled his favorite smile, the one that showed her dimples. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Peter replied. “See you later.” 

He ended the call, feeling much better, and knew that he needed to get back to work. He did not do so before finding a pad of sticky notes and a pen, however, and scribbling a quick note for Tony on one, which he then stuck next to the keypad that powered the door to the penthouse itself. He read it to himself, decided it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was enough for now, and exited the floor. 

Several hours later, Tony found the note on his way out. He took it down off the wall, smiled at the messy handwriting, and carefully stuck the note onto the inside flap of the cover of his StarkPad, so that he’d be able to look at it often. It was a short message, but one he’d needed without realizing it for a long time. 

_ Thank you. _


	11. A Boys' Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Peter spend a little quality time together.

**September 16th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 5:45 PM**

“Oh, hey!” Harry said, looking up from his laptop as Peter pushed his way into the apartment. His friend closed the device, and stood, beaming at him. “How was your day?” 

“Uh… long?” Peter replied with a short laugh. “You’re chipper.”

“Oh, yeah, good day,” Harry said, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “Ned and Cheri aren’t home yet.”

“Right,” Peter said, sighing. “Cheri has a meeting with one of her professors, and Ned’s working late.” He shrugged. “Guess it’s just you and me for dinner.”

“Hell yes,” Harry said, pumping his fist a little and dodging around Peter to get to the kitchen. “We can order something that _ we _ like, that Ned and Cheri hate.”

Peter smiled to himself, and headed for his bedroom, dropping his bag on the floor. He made sure he had his phone with him, and returned to the living room, to find Harry back on the couch, one of the take out menus open in front of him. He looked up, and grinned, waving it in the air. 

“Wow,” Peter said, laughing a little. “Why did I expect any different? Of _ course _ you’re going for pizza.”

“Cheri doesn’t let us get it anymore!” Harry complained. “And Ned never ate any of it when we _ could _ order it, so I say, with them not here, we should be able to get whatever we want.”

“Okay, what if _ I _ don’t want pizza?” Peter queried, leaning over the back of the couch. 

Harry looked offended. “Why would you even say such a thing?” he asked, and Peter grinned, hopping over the couch and settling down beside him. 

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll stop pretending I don’t miss it.” He took the menu from Harry’s hands, examined it for a second. “But, like, no pepperoni, you psychopath.”

“That is the only acceptable pizza topping, Peter Parker,” Harry retorted. 

Peter laughed. “All right, all right, we’ll do half with your nasty pepperoni, and I’ll get whatever I want on the other half.” He considered the options. “Mushrooms and olives.”

“Bor-_ing,” _ Harry said, sticking out his tongue. Peter snorted, and tossed the menu into his face, pulling out his phone to place the order. 

“Yeah, hi, could we get a large thin crust, half pepperoni and half mushrooms and olives?” He made a face at Harry, who flipped him off in response, and carried the menu back into the kitchen. “Yeah, uh, and some breadsticks, too. The cheesy ones.” 

Harry returned, holding a huge bottle of soda, and Peter raised an eyebrow, almost missing what the lady on the other end of the call said to him. “Oh, we’ll pay cash,” he said, figuring it out at the last second, before the call got awkward. “Right, thanks. 71 2nd Avenue.” 

He lowered the phone as the call ended, and looked at Harry. “$22.45,” he said, and Harry frowned at him. 

“You ordered breadsticks!” 

“Yeah, and what, you’re going to complain about it?” Peter queried, rising a little to pull out his wallet. “I’ll cover it, if you’ve got tip money.”

“I always do,” Harry replied, and pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket, setting the soda down on the table. Peter tilted his head at his friend, who sat down next to him, sighing. After a moment, he looked at Peter. “What?” he asked. 

“What’s with the soda?” Peter questioned. “You’re not supposed to be drinking that sugary stuff.”

“I’m already going to be having pizza loaded with greasy cheese and pepperoni for dinner,” Harry said. “And, apparently, cheesy breadsticks on top of that. If that doesn’t kill me, then I doubt the soda will.” To prove his point, he flicked off the top of it, and took a deep drink. Peter winced for him, seeing the grimace on Harry’s face as he swallowed. 

“Yeah, you feeling sure about that now, buddy?” Peter asked as he lowered the bottle. 

“Never more sure,” Harry said, despite having to cough into the crook of his elbow for a moment. He screwed the lid back onto the soda, and snapped his fingers. “You know what, we need to prepare for the pizza smell.”

“The pizza smell,” Peter repeated, watching him stand and disappear from view. “Oh, dunk, you’re absolutely right. They’re going to come in here like bloodhounds and sniff out our sins.”

“Bite me,” Harry called from where he was digging around beneath the sink in the kitchen. “We’ve got to have a candle or something somewhere… aha!” 

He reemerged, holding a round purple candle, and carried it into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table. He lit it with a lighter he’d found, and nodded to himself. 

“It also helps set a romantic mood,” Harry commented, settling down next to Peter again. He nudged Peter’s knee with his own as Peter snorted again. “Seriously. We can talk about your exploits into the world of love with the beautiful Cheryl Maria Schultz.”

“Hah,” Peter said, without much emotion behind it, and Harry tilted his head at him. 

“What?” 

“Just -” Peter shook his head. “Isn’t it weird for you? You and Cheri dated.”

“For, like, five minutes, maybe,” Harry scoffed. Peter made a face, and Harry sighed. “Seriously, Peter, if it was weird, I would not have introduced you, first of all, and I definitely wouldn’t have agreed to you asking her to move in.” He fixed Peter with a look. “It’s not a big deal. And you know how Cheri is; she probably wouldn’t even have called it a relationship.”

Peter smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

“So? You gettin’ that good good or what, man?” Harry said, spreading his hands and waggling his eyebrows. 

_ “Harry,” _ Peter groaned, covering his face with his hand. 

“What, _ what?” _ Harry asked, grinning. “Isn’t this what guys do?” 

“Not _ us,” _ Peter told him. 

“Well, no, but that’s probably because Ned and I will never be getting _ any _ tail,” Harry responded. Peter snickered. “So?” 

“Uh…” Peter sighed, lowered his hand. “I mean, not as much as I’d like, but we’ve both been busy.” He shrugged, and Harry eyed him. 

“Yeah, I noticed you came in pretty late, a couple of days ago,” he said. 

“Oh, yeah, uh, we’re doing a project, and they wanted me to stay and help.”

“Huh.” Harry examined the candle for a moment. “Just, it’s weird, because Ned said you’d been home for hours when I got here, so.” 

There was only the smallest shift in Peter’s expression. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have caught it. Harry did. 

“It uh, I’d brought some blueprints home with me, and they needed them,” he said. “They asked me to stay after I’d brought them over.” 

“Ah,” Harry said. He lifted a shoulder, reached for the soda. “Sucks, dude. I’m surprised you’re not exhausted.” 

“I am,” Peter assured. He closed his fist on top of his thigh, flexing his hand. “I am the sleepiest.” 

The pizza arrived a while later, and Peter paid the delivery person, glad he’d never have to deliver pizza all over New York. Handing over Harry’s tip last, he then swung around, holding the pizza box with the breadsticks bag on top of it between both hands. He pretended to trip and almost drop the food, but Harry barely reacted. 

“Stupid,” he said, smiling and taking the box. He set it down on the coffee table while Peter went to the kitchen to grab a drink. When he returned to the living room, Harry had kicked his feet up and turned the TV on to reruns of _ Friends. _

“Ah, good,” Peter said, moving around the couch and sinking down into the cushions once more, reaching for a piece of pizza. “Mindless television.” 

“The best kind,” Harry agreed, munching on a breadstick. 

They ate in silence, both watching the TV but not necessarily paying attention to the show itself. Peter was too busy thinking about something that he needed to do that night, when he went out to stop crime. Harry seemed to be distracted, too, but Peter did not ask him about it. 

Eventually, the pizza was mostly devoured, Peter’s side completely gone, and a couple of slices from Harry’s side remaining in the box. The breadsticks had long since been demolished. Peter gestured to the leftover slices. 

“You gonna hide those in your mini-fridge?” he asked, only half joking. 

“Probably,” Harry said. “A midnight snack’s always good to have close at hand.” He stood and carried the pizza box into the kitchen. While he was busy shoving the pizza into a gallon Ziploc bag, Peter studied the candle that he’d found, trying to remember when any of them would have bought a candle for the apartment. It hadn’t been burned before, he noticed, so it had to have been relatively new. Unless it was just an apartment-warming gift that either May or Ned’s mother had purchased for them, that they’d never put to use. 

Wherever it had come from, the thing smelled pleasantly of something floral, and he leaned closer to get a better sense of what it could be. 

“Yikes, you trying to burn your eyebrows off?” Harry asked from behind him, and Peter sat back against the couch cushions, grinning. 

“No,” he said, mock annoyed. “I wanted to see if I can tell what kind of flower it’s supposed to smell like.” He shook his head. “But I have no idea. I’d guess something purple, though, so… lilac? Lavender?” 

“I don’t think lavender is a flower,” Harry said, walking towards his bedroom to deposit the Ziploc in his fridge. 

“Sure it is,” Peter called, but part of him thought that maybe Harry was right. He was about to pull his phone out to check, when the door of the apartment opened. Cheri walked through it, looking cheerful despite the late hour of her return home. 

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling at him. Peter stood and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“How was your day?” he asked. 

“Fine,” Cheri said. “I’m never scheduling a meeting with a professor that late in the day ever again, though.” She looked around, eyeing the candle for a moment. “We own a candle?” 

“Apparently,” Peter said, moving away towards the kitchen again, taking the empty breadstick bag with him to drop into the garbage. 

Cheri pointed to the half-empty bottle of soda. “I really hope that’s yours,” she said, “or I’m going to have a _ very _ serious discussion with a young man by the name of Harold Osborn.”

“Oh, jeez,” Harry said, stepping out of the hall, holding his arms out. “What’d I do now?”

Cheri picked up the soda, and shook it at him. Harry grimaced, and shot Peter a look, like _ Why didn’t you put that away for me? _

Peter could only respond with a small shrug of his shoulders. Harry sighed, looking back at Cheri. “To be fair,” he began, walking over and taking the bottle from her. “I haven’t had soda in almost four months, so.”

“I hope you were celebrating something,” Cheri said, frowning at him. “You know how bad soda is for you.”

“Soda’s bad for everyone,” Harry responded. “That doesn’t stop the rest of America from drinking it.”

“Most of the American population that drinks soda isn’t suffering from a debilitating disease,” Cheri retorted, crossing her arms. 

Harry blinked at her for a moment, and Peter could see that he was actually stunned. “Wow,” he said after a second. “Thanks, Cheri. Really, uh… you just came home and you’re already making moves.” He shook his head a little, and glanced at Peter. “She must not do that to you, because I doubt you’d still be together otherwise.”

Cheri seemed to realize that what she’d said was too much, because her expression softened. “Harry, I’m sorry,” she said, quietly. “It - you know I just worry.”

“I don’t need people worrying about me,” Harry said, his voice low. He sighed, his shoulders falling. “Uh, I guess tell Ned I said goodnight. I’m gonna take a quick shower and then head to bed.” 

“Harry, seriously,” Cheri said, moving forward and taking his arm gently in her hand. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh about it. I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her, and Peter saw the exact moment he forced the smile he gave her. “It’s all right,” he said. “Really.” He pulled his arm from her hand. “Night, guys.”

“Night,” Peter said, watching him go back down the hall towards the bathroom, the bottle of soda still swinging idly from his hand. Once he was out of sight, Peter looked at Cheri, an eyebrow raised. Cheri did not look at him, merely walked down the hall herself, probably to deposit her bag in their room. 

Peter returned to the couch, and sat down, sighing to himself. After a moment, he leaned forward, and blew out the candle. 

Cheri returned, bag-less, and walked to the kitchen to find something to eat. Peter did not say anything as she sat down with a bowl of leftover casserole that she’d made the night before, warmed up in the microwave. She gestured to the TV. 

“You watching this?” she asked. 

“Not really,” Peter replied, and to prove it, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the news. 

They sat in silence while Cheri ate and flipped through different channels, before giving up and turning the TV off entirely.”Did you pick up dish soap at the store today?” she asked him. 

Peter frowned. “Was I supposed to?”

Cheri sighed outwards. “Yes, Pete. I asked you to yesterday, and you said you’d stop on your way home.” She glanced sideways at him. “This is the fourth time you’ve forgotten to go to the store for me.”

“Maybe you should start going to the store yourself, then,” Peter said, sharply, and then winced. Where the hell had _ that _ come from?

Cheri did in fact look hurt by his tone, and she stared at him, obviously at a loss for a reply. Thankfully, the front door opened, and Ned pushed his way through, bringing with him the sounds that Ned always carried when he came home. 

“Hey,” Peter greeted, looking away from Cheri. “Get that thing done?” Ned let out an exaggerated groan in response, slumping down against the back of the couch. Peter leaned over it to look down at him, amused. “Is that a no?”

“No, it’s a yes,” Ned said. “But it’s a very tired, very hungry yes.” He looked up at Peter, blinking. “Will you microwave me some casserole please and thank you?” 

“I’ll do it,” Cheri said, standing before Peter could respond, her empty bowl in hand. 

Ned watched her go into the kitchen, and he looked at Peter again. “What’s her problem?” 

“She said something kind of nasty to Harry, and she feels bad,” Peter explained. _ And apparently her boyfriend’s in a bad enough mood to where he’ll be mean to her, even though he was pretty sure he was fine five minutes ago. _

He wasn’t mad about anything, other than the fact that he’d forgotten to go to the store _ again. _Cheri had been right when she’d said it was the fourth time he’d forgotten to go, had forgotten someone had even _ asked _ him to in fact. And it wasn't like she asked him to go for her when she was capable of going herself; it was usually when she'd be on campus late, and knew he'd be home first. He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten. _Again._

Maybe he really _ was _ tired. 

Ned let out a quiet, “Oh,” and struggled to his feet. “Sucks.” He walked off towards his room, and Peter turned his attention towards the kitchen. He could see Cheri moving around, making Ned’s food, and he was extremely tempted to go in there and interrupt, take her hands in his and take her to bed, as an apology for how he’d snapped at her. 

He shook the thought off, recognizing that there wasn’t time for that. His night was already too busy. 

Ned returned just as Cheri walked out of the kitchen, holding a bowl, and he took it from her, smiling. “Thanks, Cheri,” he said, and he settled down on the couch with a heavy exhalation. Peter looked at Cheri. 

“You tired?” he asked, quietly.

“I should shower,” Cheri murmured in response. 

“The bathroom’s open,” Ned said, swallowing some casserole. Cheri smiled sadly at Peter, and walked away from them. He heard the bathroom door close, and he relaxed again, sighing to himself. 

“We aren’t all going to be getting along at the same time always,” Ned told him idly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter sighed. “Just - they’ve been friends longer than we’ve been friends with either of them. It makes me sad when they’re upset with one another, that’s all.”

“At least Cheri knows that she’s the one who messed up,” Ned commented, and Peter lifted his shoulders. Ned’s eyes found the candle on the table, and he frowned a little, leaning over to pick it up. “Where’d this come from?” 

“Dunno,” Peter replied. “Harry found it under the sink.”

“Huh,” Ned said. He shrugged, set it back down. “It doesn't smell like anything.”

“Really? I thought it was kind of floral,” Peter said. They both studied the candle for a moment, before Peter shrugged and stood, stretching. “I’m gonna head to my room,” he said. He glanced at Ned. “Also, Ned?” 

“Hm?” 

“Don’t tell Harry if I’m home before him, okay?” Ned glanced up at him, obviously confused, and Peter waved his hand. “He saw me come back, a few nights ago, and told me you’d said that I was already home. Just don’t do that anymore.”

“Oh. Okay,” Ned said, reaching out and messing with the candle for a second. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Peter said, and he walked around the couch. “See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ned replied, and Peter thought he sounded the tiniest bit hurt. He didn’t spend long trying to figure out why, however. 

He lingered long enough for Cheri to be finished with her shower. She came into their bedroom with her dark hair still dripping, and she blinked at him. “I thought you’d be gone,” she said, walking over to the dresser shoved into the closet and pulling a drawer open. 

“I should be,” Peter said, looking up from his phone. “There’s a lot going on tonight.” 

Cheri hummed distractedly in response, pulling on a pair of boxers that he’d long since stopped wearing, and had become pajama shorts for her instead. She tugged a shirt on over her head as well, and turned to look at him, wrapping the towel she’d worn around her body around her hair instead. 

“I’m sorry, for being mean,” he said to her, and Cheri’s shoulders fell. 

“It’s all right,” she said, walking across the room and leaning across the bed to kiss him. “I know you’ve been busy. I shouldn’t get frustrated when you forget something stupid like buying dish soap.”

“Maybe not the first or second time,” Peter agreed. “But a third or fourth time is just ridiculous. I don’t know where my head’s been.”

Cheri smiled slightly, passing her hand through his curls. “Swinging around New York City with you,” she said. “You’re really going tonight?” 

Peter reached up and took her hand in his, kissing her palm. “Yes,” he said. “I had an easy day at work.” Cheri gave him a look that showed she didn’t believe him for an instant, and he managed a tired smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “New York needs me.”

“What about me?” Cheri said, quietly, glancing between his eyes. “What if I said that I needed you?” 

Peter inhaled, catching the vanilla bean smell of the shampoo that she used. His heart fluttered in his chest as he caught her gaze, and he sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I have to go.”

Cheri looked at him for a moment longer, before she straightened up. “Fine,” she said, and she walked towards the desk, sitting down in the chair there and toweling at her hair. 

Peter changed quietly into his suit - it had been too hot to wear it under his clothes during the day - and hesitated behind her when he was finished. Cheri studied her fingernails, pretending not to notice him. 

“I’ll be back by one,” he said after a moment. 

“Sure,” Cheri said. 

“Cheri.” She did not respond, and Peter let out a breath. “Never mind, then.”

He moved to the window, pushing it open. Before he could climb out it, however, Cheri latched onto his arm, holding him back. He looked at her, and she blinked, her eyes bright with unshed tears. 

“Don’t get hurt,” she whispered after a moment. 

“I won’t,” Peter assured, and he kissed her, pulling his arm free. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Cheri replied, softly, taking a step back. She watched him go through the window, leaving it open behind him. She rubbed at her arms, bowing her head, and exhaled a shaky breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone tell that this is the first thing I wrote that had Harry, like, actually in it, as a character with a speaking part and... y'know, character? 'Cause I can tell, and it's a li'l embarrassing.


	12. Lunch With Harry Should Not End In Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry really needs to chill out and let Cheri decide when Peter's doing too much and wearing himself out, because if Cheri hears it from someone else, she panics, and she hates panicking.

**September 18th, 2023 - Space Market - 1 University Pl # 1, New York, NY, USA - 12:32 PM**

Cheri pushed her way into the food market/deli that she and the boys had frequented a lot, when they were all still going to ESU. Now she more often than not found herself eating lunch at Space Market alone. However, that was not the case today, and she smiled when she caught sight of Harry, sitting at a table near the window. He smiled back, and waved her over. 

She joined him, setting her bag down on the tabletop. “Hey,” she greeted, sitting down. “Thanks for meeting me. I’m surprised you were able to come all the way over here.”

“Dad actually sent me over to ESU for some business with one of our scientists that also teaches a couple classes,” Harry replied. “I figured that since I was here, I’d see if you wanted to get lunch, just like the olden days.”

“The _ olden days?” _ Cheri repeated, snorting. “Harry, we all had lunch here literally five months ago, before graduation.”

Harry shrugged. “Feels like a lifetime ago.” 

“Did you order?” she asked him, and he shook his head. 

“I’m not that hungry.”

Cheri gave him a look. “You need to eat, Harry.”

“Sure, but I don’t need to force myself to eat,” he replied, frowning. 

Cheri sighed to herself. “Fine,” she said, standing again to go place her own order. “I know by now not to argue with you.”

“I mean, it works sometimes,” Harry told her, grinning a little. 

“Not as often as I’d like it to.” Cheri walked up to the counter, and waited to be served. She was met by a familiar face. 

“Hey, Cheri,” the owner said, grinning. 

“Hi, Mrs. Jones,” Cheri replied, smiling back. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good,” Mrs. Jones answered. She nodded towards where Harry sat. “Back again, I see. Are Peter and Ned coming, too?” 

“Oh, no, just us two today,” Cheri said, waving her hand. “That’s how it works, though, I guess, with them all having big boy jobs now.”

Mrs. Jones laughed. “Your usual, kiddo?” 

“Yes, please,” Cheri said. “And could I get a -”

“Vege G for the boy? Of course,” the owner of the deli responded, looking over at Harry again. “Is he doing okay?” 

Cheri sighed outwards. “I think so, but you know how he is. He doesn’t tell anyone when things are getting bad.”

Mrs. Jones clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “I wish he would.”

“So do I, believe me,” Cheri replied, handing over her card. She noticed Mrs. Jones give her the discounted price, and she smiled a little as she took the card back. “Thanks.”

“It’ll be ready in a minute,” Mrs. Jones replied with a wink. 

Cheri walked back over to the table where Harry was. He glanced up at her as she sat down again, sliding her wallet back into her bag. He reached over, and messed with the treble clef keychain she had hanging from a zipper. 

“How’s your day been?” he asked after a moment of silence. 

Cheri shrugged. “Not too bad, I guess,” she said. “They’re finally painting the Walker building, though, so it stinks in there, which makes it hard to concentrate.”

“Why wouldn’t they have painted during summer?” Harry asked, frowning, and Cheri shook her head. 

“Don’t ask me.”

“Order up, Cheri,” Mrs. Jones said. Cheri stood again, and went to retrieve the two wrapped sandwiches. Back at the table, she slid the one marked ‘veg’ across it towards Harry, who stared down at the sandwich, and then up at her, as she unwrapped her own. 

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” Harry said at last, when she pretended not to see him looking at her. 

“So you don’t need to eat it now, but you can save it for later when you are,” Cheri said, and she took a bite out of her sandwich. 

Harry slid the sandwich out of the way, and rested his elbows on the table, head in his hands. “Have you… noticed anything about Peter, recently?” he asked after a second. 

Cheri stopped chewing, and glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“Just… I feel like he’s been kind of forgetful, lately,” Harry said. “And… short-tempered?” Cheri did not answer at first, and Harry shook his head a little. “Maybe I’m making it up.”

“No, it… I think I know what you mean,” she said, and he looked at her again. She nodded, and set down her sandwich. “It hasn’t been super bad, but he has been a little… grumpy, recently. And he’s forgotten to go to the store for me a few times, now. I… he’s been pretty busy, though, so maybe he’s just… worn out.”

Harry let out a breath. “Yeah, that might be it,” he said. “Have you… I mean. Have you mentioned anything about it, to him?” 

Cheri blew out a breath. “You know I don’t like starting a fight when there isn’t a reason for one,” she said. 

“But he’s your boyfriend. If you’re worried he’s overworking, don’t you think you should say something to him?”

“Harry -”

“I just… I feel like you wouldn’t let me off the hook.”

“You’re sick, Peter’s not.”

“How do you know?” 

Cheri blinked at him. What was he doing? “Because I’ve known Peter for almost four years, and he hasn’t gotten even a _ cold _ since then.” She frowned a little. “Why don’t _ you _ say something to him, if you’re so worried about it?”

“Because why the hell should I, if you won’t?” Harry retorted. “He’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s your friend.”

“And?” 

“I don’t know, I just think that if you feel like something’s going on, you should talk to him about it,” Cheri said. “Why the hell would you bring it up if you didn’t feel the same way?” 

“I just thought you would have figured it was time to speak up, once you knew that someone else noticed it, too,” Harry replied. “Jesus, Cheri, I just wanted to know if you knew what I was talking about, that’s all. I’m surprised that you’re not more worried.”

Cheri studied her friend for a moment. She’d known Harry since they were children, and yet, sometimes, she found it very difficult to read him. Even more so since he’d started working with his father at Oscorp. There was no reason for her to be upset with him, though, was there? He had just asked to see if she’d noticed the same thing about Peter that he had, and to know that if she thought it was serious enough to do something about. He was just looking out for them. 

“I’m not worried because I don’t think I need to be,” she finally said. “Peter knows how to take care of himself.”

Harry frowned a little. “Does he?” 

“Yes,” she said, feeling defensive, now. “I think I’d know.” She looked down at her sandwich, which only had two bites taken out of it, and then scoffed a little, and wrapped it up again. “I should get back to campus.”

“What? You don’t have another class for an hour,” Harry said, blinking. 

“I need to stop at the recital hall, pick up some sheet music,” she said, slipping her bag over her shoulder and standing. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Cheri -”

She ignored whatever he wanted to say, and walked out of the store, heading for the closest crosswalk that would get her back across the street to ESU. Pausing there while she waited for the light to change, she hesitated a moment before pulling her phone out of her pocket, and sending a message to Peter

> _ Me: Are you doing okay? _
> 
> _ Pete: … yes? Should I not be? _

She let out a breath of air. Harry was worrying her for no reason. Peter was fine, just a little tired, maybe, and she wouldn’t blame him for that. He’d been out almost every night recently.

> _ Me: No, just checking. Hope you’re having a good day. _
> 
> _ Pete: You too. <3 _

Cheri put her phone away again just as the light changed, and she crossed the street with the crowd that had formed on the corner. She loved Harry, really, but sometimes, he could be a little too paranoid. He’d always been that way, though. She supposed it came from a lifetime of hospital visits and changing medications, just to push back the inevitable. 

** 3:45 PM **

Cheri slid into the driver’s seat of her car with a heavy exhalation, and started it. She heard her phone vibrate from inside her bag, where it was on the passenger’s seat. She reached over to check it before pulling out of the parking spot she’d claimed behind the library.

> _ Harry: Sorry about earlier. I ate the sandwich. _

She smiled to herself

> _ Me: Good. Did you do whatever you needed to? _
> 
> _ Harry: What, for Oscorp? Yeah, I’m back at the building already. _
> 
> _ Me: When do you think you’ll be home? _
> 
> _ Harry: Oh, uh… I dunno. Six or seven, probably, got some work to do, still. Go ahead and have dinner without me, all right? _

Cheri made a face.

> _ Me: If you say so. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s worn out? _
> 
> _ Harry: Hardee har. I need to get back to work. _

Cheri waited another minute, to see if he’d send a final message. He didn’t. Sighing, she tossed her phone back over to her bag, and put her car in reverse. 

The traffic was way worse than she would have thought, and she wondered why she’d bothered driving at all, then remembered that she’d wanted to go to the store, since Peter had forgotten, again. Cheri let out a long groan, and flicked on her blinker, glancing over her shoulder so that she could change lanes, in order to turn at the next light, rather than go straight as she’d originally planned. Being able to walk to campus had really made her resentful towards needing to drive. 

After she stopped at the closest store where she could pick up the things she needed, she finally headed for the apartment again, and walked upstairs after parking, lugging her bag and her groceries along with her. The door opened before she could even struggle with her keys, and she let out a relieved breath. 

“Thank you,” she said, pushing her groceries into Peter’s outstretched hands before walking into the apartment, swinging the door closed behind her. She leaned back against it, sighing outwards. 

“Sorry,” Peter said over his shoulder as he carried the groceries into the kitchen. “If I’d remember to go to the store for you -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cheri said, straightening up. She dumped her bag onto the couch, and joined him in the kitchen to help put groceries away. “Harry won’t be home until later, and he said we should have dinner without him.”

“That’s sad,” Peter said, frowning. 

“Yeah, it is,” Cheri agreed. She hesitated for a moment, really not wanting to make it a thing, but knowing that it would only become a _bigger _thing if she waited. “He said he’s worried about you.”

Peter paused, one arm outstretched to put a can into a cabinet. He glanced over at her. “Why?”

She lifted her shoulders, closing the fridge with her hip.”He thinks you’ve been forgetful, which is true. And that you’ve been a little short-tempered.”

“I’ve barely seen Harry recently, aside from two nights ago,” Peter said, his frown deepening. “It makes no sense he’d feel that way.”

Cheri glanced down at the tile floor. “I told him that it might have something to do with how hard you’ve been working.” She looked up when Peter did not respond, and found that he was folding the paper bags the groceries had been in. “You’ve been going out every night.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Peter replied, sticking the bags beneath the sink with the rest of their collection. “We should take those to the Compound next time we go, so that Doc can recycle them.”

“Pete -”

“How were your classes?” he asked, before she could finish her sentence, and Cheri dropped the topic completely. She did not want to start a fight with him. 

“They were fine,” she said instead, in response to his question, and she followed him back into the front room. “And your day at work was busy, I’d guess?”

“Ah, it could have been worse,” Peter replied with a shrug. He plopped down on the couch, reaching for his laptop, which rested on the coffee table. “I had to bring some work home, though.”

Cheri watched him get back to work, before she retrieved her bag and carried it to their bedroom. “Hey, Ned!” she called in the general direction of his room, and she heard something come from there that might have been a return to her greeting. She set her bag down on the bed, and pulled out her notebook. She had a few arrangements to finish, before her next class, although she would have rathered sit and talk with Peter for a bit before dinner. 

It was all right, though. He was busy. 

**10:42 PM**

Cheri set down her hair brush, and pulled her curls back into a bun, which she secured with a hair tie. She flicked the light in the bathroom off, and walked back down the hall to her and Peter’s bedroom. Her shoulders fell when she opened the door, and found him in the middle of putting his suit on. 

“Hey, hey!” he said, glancing over, eyes wide. “Shut that, jeez.”

“Sorry,” Cheri said, closing the door behind her. She leaned back against it, and watched as he finished tugging the suit on. It automatically adjusted to fit him better when he touched the spider emblem in the center of his chest, and he reached for his mask. Cheri frowned a little. “Uhm.”

“Hm?” Peter did not look at her as he adjusted his web shooters. 

“I just… I dunno. I thought you’d want to stay in, tonight,” she said. “You were busy with work all evening.”

“Yeah,” he said absently. “Still. The city needs me.”

Cheri pursed her lips for a moment. She was tired of hearing him say that, tired of him using it as an excuse. “Don’t you think you deserve a break, though?” she asked, trying not to sound confrontational.

“Can’t,” Peter said. He walked over to where she was long enough to press a brief kiss to her lips, before he slipped on his mask and went to the window instead. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come back in,” he said, and then he was gone. 

Cheri gazed at the window, which he’d left open behind him, for a long moment. Eventually, she convinced herself to move away from the door, and went to close it, which she did with a bit more force than necessary. 

She didn’t like feeling this way about Peter’s duties as Spider-Man. She knew they were important, knew that he was doing good things, helping to keep watch over the city. She also knew that he’d never consider _ not _ doing so, so long as he had his powers, but it… 

Sometimes, _ sometimes, _ she would have appreciated being able to fall asleep with him, at the same time, like a normal couple who lived together would. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, to get a rein on her emotions. At least he was there when she got home. At least she got to see him _ at all. _ There were plenty of couples all over who rarely got to see one another, and she was able to see Peter every day.

For that, she could be grateful. For the rest of it… well. Maybe she could be a little resentful, but only when she allowed herself not to think about the numerous people Peter helped every night as Spider-Man. She loved him, loved what he was able to do, even when she knew that it had to be wearing him out, whether he wanted to admit it or not. 

On that, whether Harry knew the real reason why, he was right.

**September 19th, 2023 - 2:31 AM**

Cheri rolled over at the sound of the window sliding open, and blinked into the darkness of the bedroom. After a moment, the light flicked on, and she squinted against it with a muttered curse, sticking her head beneath the pillow. 

"Sorry, sorry," Peter whispered to her. "I thought you were asleep."

"I _was,"_ she grumbled. 

"Sorry," he said again. She could hear him tugging his suit off. "I didn't meant to wake you. Give me three minutes." 

Cheri merely huffed in response, and kept her head beneath the pillow. She was beginning to doze off again when the bed sank down next to her, indicating that Peter had laid down. She peeked out from under the pillow, and hissed when she realized that the light in the bedroom was still on. 

"Peter," she muttered. He did not response. "Peter!" He released a gentle snore, and Cheri breathed outwards in frustration, sitting up. She clambered over him, and reached for the lamp, turning the light out. She then flopped back down onto the bed with a quiet groan, flipping onto her side to face away from him. 

Not that it mattered, much. Maybe two minutes later, she felt his arms slip around her waist, tugging her backwards into his chest. Cheri stared straight ahead at the wall, frowning to herself. Her frown faded, however, when Peter nuzzled into the hair on the back of her head, sighing blissfully. She couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was so sweet, even in his sleep. 

She placed her hand over his where it rested on her stomach. "Sleep good, Queens," she murmured, and closed her eyes again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Space Market is a real place that is near the approximate location of Empire State University as based upon the PS4 Spider-Man game's placement of it within the bounds of Manhattan. 
> 
> As I've said: I've done a LOT of geographical research for this fic. It's absurd. 
> 
> Peter and Cheri actually visit this same spot during a chapter of 'Since You've Been Mine', and this is where all four of the apartment pals eat during the first part of the Friends-giving chapters.


	13. The Third Email

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is really starting to get weird.

_ To: _ _ nvo.14@osmail.com _ _   
_ _ From: _ _ hto.31@osmail.com _

_ Subject: Dinner _

_ D - _

_ Third and final attempt successful. If this doesn’t work, then we’ll have to change our entire plan, but it will, I promise. You can count on me. You put this into my hands, and I’ll see it through to completion. _

_ If it does work, though, what’s the next step? Are you going to hurt him? Kidnap him? What’s the actual end goal? I know that the toxin is meant to weaken him, but what’s to gain from that? He’ll still be swinging around the city to help people, memory loss and some serious mood swings notwithstanding. _

_ Speaking of, I think those two things are already starting to make an appearance. He forgot to go to the store again, forgot that C even asked him too, and he snapped at N, which has never happened. N said that he and C had a fight this week, too, about S-M leaving the light on in their room all night. _

_ I don’t want things to get worse here, so please, whatever you plan on doing once the toxin actually begins to work to its full affect, get it done, so that we can pretend it never even happened. Perhaps even before they really make a connection to certain changes. _

_ On a different note, did your secretary mention I called, asking about dinner? We haven’t just hung out for a while, and I think it might be nice, y’know, to be normal for a little in the midst of our diabolic planning. Let me know. _

_ \- H _


	14. An 'It Gets Worse!' Converse.... ation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like The "The Adventure Zone" Zone, but with less participation and more angsty Ned.

**September 20th, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 1:15 PM**

“All right,” Peter said, settling down on the couch with his DM notebook in his hands. “Uh… Mr. Stark, is this going to be going into the system as a transcript?” 

“Yes, of course,” Tony answered. “Let’s Converse About ‘It Gets Worse!’” 

“I hate that with my entire being,” Peter said, smiling, and he opened the notebook. 

“Are we going to do another one of these?” Bruce asked from where he sat on the love seat with Tony beside him. 

“Probably not. I don’t have plans for a second campaign,” Peter replied. 

“Okay, but if someone else wanted to DM, we could still say that their campaign is part of the It Gets Worse!-verse.” Ned glanced up from his laptop, which he held on top of his thighs. “So, what are we going to be talking about?” 

“Let’s get immersed in the ‘It Gets Worse’ universe!” Tony said, cheerfully, leaving Peter to wince and wish he were anywhere else but in the room with the four of them. Maybe it was a bad idea, to do this today. He’d felt short tempered all day long, and had acted like it. 

“We can talk about anything we want, right?” Steve asked, sitting down between Peter and Ned. “I mean, that’s what I assumed.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, and he adjusted his notebook on his lap, breathing outwards. He could keep himself stable long enough to do this. _ Just breathe. _ “Uh, just… any feelings we have about the end of the campaign, things you want to discuss about your characters, the story, whatever we feel like bringing to the table to have a discussion about. It’s been a month since we finished, so I figure we’ve all had enough time to think about it.”

“Yeah, and I have some thoughts, definitely,” Tony said, sitting up straight. “First of all, uh… what the _ fuck, _ Peter?” 

Peter managed a smile. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, what was that ending even about?” Tony asked. “Honestly. I’m not going to say it wasn’t good, because it was fine, but I… we didn’t get an epic Lord of the Rings-esque battle for the throne, and that was a bit of a let down.”

“And we didn’t get past level 8 with our characters,” Ned put in, “which, honestly, I feel like should translate to there being a continuation, but that’s just my opinion.”

Peter sighed. “You guys, I hate to admit it,” he started, “but… I didn’t really like being the DM.”

“Aw, what? Peter, you did such a good job, though,” Bruce told him, frowning. 

“I appreciate that, Doc, but all of us sitting in this room know that the campaign would have been a lot better if someone with more DM experience had been in charge of it,” Peter said. “Uh, but that’s neither here nor there. Who wants to… bring up something that’s actually discussable?” 

“Well, first, I just want to say how nice it is to actually all be sitting in the same room,” Steve began. This received sounds of approval, and he continued, “If we had done the whole campaign this way, however -”

“Yeah, someone would have been punched in the face, for sure,” Tony interrupted. 

“There were plenty of times I wanted Jak to punch Stony in the face,” Ned agreed. “Like… hm, just picking a random example off the top of my head… the Elton John performance.”

“Are you _ kidding me?” _ Tony demanded, frowning at him. “That was the _ highlight _ of the campaign.”

“I don’t think Ned means the performance itself,” Bruce put in. “I think he’s talking about the fact that the performance even needed to happen.”

“But, let’s be real, here,” Peter said. He knew that if he didn’t speak up, they’d start talking over one another, and he didn’t think he could handle that right now. “A campaign with a bard in the party that doesn’t have some kind of stage performance involved would have to be counted as a bad one, right?” 

Ned sighed. “I guess that’s a solid point,” he admitted. “But if the performance had been the final part of the campaign, like how all those old plays by the Greeks ended with a monologue from the bard character, that would have been very good.”

“Mm, yes, and the whole thing ends with a Pentony kiss,” Tony said with a grin, nudging Bruce with his elbow. 

_ “Pentony?” _Peter managed through the startled laughter that had bubbled up from his chest. “Seriously?”

“They’re an OTP, don’t deny it,” Bruce said.

“I don’t -” Steve shook his head, smiling. “All right. An OTP, sure. Whatever that means.”

“It means they’re meant to be together, in short terms,” Ned explained. He had his eyes on the screen of his laptop. “Which I guess is sort of at least partially true?” 

“If you ever thought for a second that Stony _ wasn’t _going to proclaim his love in some dramatic fashion to Pentan, you are absolutely wrong,” Tony said, and then he winced. “Although, there was an instant where I thought I’d make Stony a huge asshole, and reveal that the whole declaration of love thing had just been to get an audience reaction.”

Bruce made a face like he’d never heard a more disheartening thing in his life, and he blinked at Tony as though he’d never seen him before. “You’re joking,” he said, and Tony sheepishly shook his head. 

“I’m not. But I didn’t, though, so that’s… that’s good?” 

“What made you change your mind?” Peter asked. 

“The sake of character development,” Tony replied with a sigh, leaning back into the cushion of the love seat. “And the fact that I didn’t want to do that to Bruce.”

“Yes, it would have made me very sad for Pentan’s sake,” Bruce told him, sourly. “How dare you even consider it?” 

Tony held up his hands defensively, and Steve glanced between the two of them for a moment before clearing his throat and saying, “Sticking with the topic of game-based romances, uh, I really appreciate none of you actually forcing a situation in which Gray and Jacqueline were alone together in a room, because I never intended for Gray to have feelings for her.”

“Yeah, and here’s a fun bit of information: Jacqueline is asexual,” Peter added. “So, she wasn’t going to be interested in anybody, ever.”

“Pft, that’s not a surprise,” Ned said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Can we clear up whether or not Garrick was gay or bisexual?” Tony asked, and Peter lifted his shoulders. 

“I mean, he was never in a position to express interest in women, right, so… I mean, we could say that he _ was _bisexual, but his only romantic interest during the campaign was a male.”

“Also, what’s with all the children of Julien Whitlock being some form of LGBT?” Bruce asked with a laugh. “Isn’t that a stereotype, that it runs in the family?” 

“No, I think the stereotype is that everybody has a gay cousin, and if you can’t figure out which of your cousins it is, that makes_ you _the gay cousin,” Ned said, looking away from his laptop, which he’d moved to the arm of the couch, continuing to type on it occasionally. 

“Also it is kind of stereotypical to have siblings all be LGBT,” Peter said, “and I apologize for it, but Jerry was _ never _my character; he just so happened to be a useful plot point that Ned gifted to me. If Jak hadn’t been drinking at the Bookmark Tavern with a companion, I would have found another way for Garrick to escape, probably via his sick rogue skills which we definitely didn’t get to see enough of.” 

Tony snorted. “We know what class Peter’s character in the next campaign is going to be,” he said, and Peter grinned. 

“A halfling rogue, are you _ kidding? _ How sick would that be?” 

Bruce laughed. “You can name him Bilbo.”

“Too far,” Ned said, looking at the computer once more. Peter frowned a little, wanting to say something, but he was unable to as a different interruption entered the space instead. 

“All right, pumpkins,” Cheri said, coming into the room from the kitchen, carrying a large bowl of freshly popped popcorn. “Here you go, for all your snacking while discussing needs.” 

“Oh, did you put Harry’s salt on it?” Peter asked, hopefully, reaching for a handful. 

“Yes,” Cheri said, and she shook her head. “I don’t know why you like it so much.”

“Rich people salt,” Peter replied, putting several pieces on his mouth. 

“Well, if he notices it’s missing, you get to explain why,” Cheri told him. 

She’d been distant from him over the last couple of days, and Peter knew why. He’d been spending a lot of time out in the city, recently, doing whatever he could to help with a major bust that the police were planning in relation to the crime boss Wilson Fisk. As such, he hadn’t been home much, at night, and it bothered her. Her attitude towards him lately was actually part of the reason he was having a bad day; he understood her frustration, but she needed to understand that this was his life, and she’d just need to deal with it. 

“Peanuts, you showed up at just the right time to give your outsider’s opinion,” Tony said, bringing Peter out of his reverie. He grabbed Cheri’s wrist, and pulled her into a sitting position on the arm of the love seat. “Chat with us for a bit. What did you think of It Gets Worse!, the first campaign?” 

Cheri pondered the question for a moment, and Peter honestly couldn’t tell if she was making a show of doing so, or if she genuinely needed to think about her answer. Finally, she shrugged and said, “I think it was a good first attempt for the majority of you in the world of D&D. Peter DMing for the first time, the three older gentlemen playing the game for the first time. Ned was really the only one with a lot of genuine experience, but it went… about as well as it could have, with all of you being at the skill levels you are.” 

“Nicely put, Cheri,” Steve said with a nod. “And the next time we play, we’ll be a bit better prepared, and have a better understanding of what we’re doing, because of this campaign.”

“Sure, we had to start somewhere, and this was definitely a good way to do so,” Bruce said, nodding. 

“Yeah, if you look at everything but mechanics, and the lack of fights, and just the general everything about the campaign,” Peter said, closing his notebook again, realizing that he probably wasn’t going to be using it. 

“Let’s talk about something else so we don’t have to listen to Peter feel sorry for himself,” Ned decided. 

“You’re not even paying attention,” Peter said, frowning past Steve at him. “What are you doing on your laptop, anyway?” 

“Work,” Ned answered. “That forum thing I posted on brought me a lot of different jobs. No one knows how to use a computer, it’s great.” 

“Okay, but we’re doing something right now, so could you… wait to do your work until later, maybe?” Peter queried. Ned let out a sigh, but all the same made a show of closing his laptop, and setting it down on the coffee table. He then held up his hands, and leaned back against the couch. 

“All right,” Peter said, and he looked at everyone else, ignoring the face Cheri was making at him. “What else?”

“Uh… if any of our characters was going to die, who would it have been?” Ned queried, folding his hands and placing them beneath his chin, blinking at Peter innocently. 

Peter glowered. “Why would you ask that?” 

“I’m genuinely curious,” Ned responded plainly. 

“It would have been Stony, right?” Tony questioned, sighing a little. “I mean, he was the one to almost get shot by an assassin.”

“Yes, but Peter deliberately made it so that he _ didn’t _ end up getting shot,” Steve pointed out. 

Peter crossed his arms over his chest, examining the ceiling. “I didn’t want any of your characters to die,” he said. “That is never the intention of any DM; if they _were_ to die, for the sake of story or whatever, I would've had a conversation with the player character beforehand.”

“But if one of them _ did _ die, which death would you have made the most dramatic?” Ned prompted, with that same look on his face. 

“Maybe we should give it until Part 2: The Electric Boogaloo,” Bruce commented. “Someone might die then.”

“I just want something that is Ned Chicane level of fantastic player character death, that’s all,” Ned said, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course, that’s the choice of the player, and Peter kind of has a hard time allowing that to happen, so.”

“Okay, Ned?” Peter began, inhaling slightly. “Why are you being a brat?” 

“Am I? Oops,” Ned said, dryly, and he leaned back into the couch. “My bad.”

Silence descended in the room, an extremely uncomfortable one. After a second, Bruce cleared his throat, and leaned forward a little, in Ned’s direction. “Is there… something you need to talk about, Ned?” he asked, gently, and Ned closed his eyes. 

“I had to tell my parents about… y’know. Not doing college this semester,” he began. 

Peter blinked. Ned hadn’t said anything about this to him. Why had he kept it to himself? 

Tony looked worried. “And it didn’t go well?” he asked. 

“No, it - it went _ fine,” _ Ned sighed. “But I - I found out something… pretty bad, about my dad, and I just. I’m upset about it, okay?” He frowned down at the floor. “It’s going to make things significantly harder for my family going forward.”

The obvious question hung in the air, but everyone seemed too afraid to ask it. Peter, making the decision as Ned’s best friend since childhood, exhaled a breath. “What happened, Ned?” 

Ned shifted in his seat. “He had an affair,” he said, his voice low. “Uh… and my mom kicked him out. They’re getting a divorce, which means… she and my sister won’t have his income, anymore? Which isn’t so good for them.”

More silence. After a moment, Steve placed a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Do - your mom should get something from the divorce, though, shouldn’t she?” 

“It won’t last forever,” Ned replied, “and I don’t - she can’t exactly afford a top notch lawyer, so really, my dad might get off easy.” He sniffled, and reached up, wiping briefly at his nose. “So, uh… Peter? Cheri? I might be moving out, so that I can help support my mom and my sister for a little while.”

“Ned, I -” Peter started, but cut himself off at the look Cheri shot in his direction. She then moved towards Ned’s side of the couch, settling down on the arm there instead, and placing her arm around him. 

“You don’t have to move out,” she told him. “We can help take care of your mom and sister.”

“Thanks,” Ned said, “but I - it’s kind of my problem. That’s why I didn’t say anything, before now, because I don’t - my mom isn’t going to want to accept charity, and that’s kind of what she thinks I get from Peter and Harry, since I don’t have to worry about helping to pay for rent or anything. So… yeah. I have to deal with this on my own.” 

He stood up, picking up his laptop as he went, and looked sideways at Peter. “Which is part of the reason I’ve been doing work whenever I can, so that I can start helping out now.” He then glanced around at the others. “Sorry I ruined our discussion. Maybe we can try it again some other time.” 

He walked out of the living room, headed for the elevator. They all watched him go, and then Peter buried his face in his hands. “I can’t - fuck, did that really just happen?” he muttered, not really asking everyone else in the room, but Tony replied, all the same. 

“Yeah, I think it did.” He stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Charity. It - it isn’t charity. It’s wanting to help out a friend, because you have the means to do so. But… some people are proud, and sometimes so much is too much.”

Peter stood up. “I should go talk to him.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough, Peter?” Cheri questioned, without much infliction, aside from the use of his full name. _ Peter. _ She was upset with him. 

Peter gaped at her. “What the hell are you even talking about?” he asked, confused on top of being hurt. At least he wasn’t angry for no reason, anymore. “I had no idea what was going on!” 

“That’s _ exactly _ what I’m talking about!” Cheri exclaimed, rising to her feet as well. “He’s your _ best friend, _ and you didn’t notice that there was something wrong?”

“Just because I didn’t notice doesn’t mean I’m to blame for everything,” Peter said sharply.

“I’m not _ blaming you _ for anything,” Cheri retorted. 

“Really? Because it feels like that’s what you were doing,” Peter snapped. 

Cheri stared at him for a moment, fire in her eyes, and then she shook her head once and walked out of the room, flipping her hair back over her shoulder as she went. As soon as she was out of sight, Peter bowed his head, hating himself even more. 

“Shit,” he muttered, and he pressed his hands to his face. “Shit!” 

“Good going, Peter,” Tony said, flatly. “I - you’re doing really well today, kid.” 

“I didn’t know,” Peter tried, lowering his hands. 

“Do you think that matters?” Tony demanded. “Picking a fight where there isn’t one doesn’t help _ anybody, _ ever, even if they’re not already going through something.” 

“I just wanted everyone to be invested in the conversation,” Peter said, his voice low. “I didn’t…” He let out a slow breath, and sank back down on the couch. “Okay. I could’ve been nicer about it, but if Ned was already hurting, that sort of reaction would have always happened at some point.”

“He’s right,” Bruce murmured from where he still sat on the love seat. He had his chin resting in his hand, elbow on his knee. “Poor kid. I’d like to be able to talk to him some more, but I’d guess he isn’t in the mood for that right now.”

“I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor?” Steve said, and Bruce lifted his shoulders. 

“Well, everyone _thinks_ I am, so I thought I might as well start working on an eighth PhD. No big deal.” 

Silence descended again, until Tony let out a sound that was suspiciously reminiscent of a snort. Bruce glanced at him, smiling a bit himself. “What?” he asked. 

_“I thought I’d start working on an _ eighth _ PhD,” _ Tony said, in a terrible impression of Bruce’s voice. “_No big deal.” _ He shook his head, letting out a snicker. “Are you _ kidding _ me?”

Steve gazed at the both of them for a moment, before rolling his eyes and looking at Peter. “Just give Ned some time,” he said. “I don’t - he might not willingly come to you to talk, but just… he needs space, right now. In a couple of days, you can approach him, let him know you’re available to talk, if he needs to.” 

“Yeah, all right,” Peter sighed. “Just… I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have - does he think I would have _ judged _ him, or something? Why?” 

No one responded, and Peter hung his head, feeling worse than he had prior to asking the question. “Right. Never mind.” He glanced up again. “What about with Cheri?” 

“Now _ her _ you should go talk to,” Bruce said, straightening up. He stood, and stretched his arms over his head, nodding. “Yes, definitely should talk to Cheri.”

“Okay,” Peter said. “I can do that. We’ve fought before. Sort of.” He hesitated, thinking it over. He wasn’t even sure what had just occurred between the two of them could count as a fight. It had involved mean words, definitely, but it wasn’t as though he’d had a more serious encounter to compare it to, so… 

He sighed to himself. It had been a fight. There was no other word for it. 

“Talk to Cheri,” he said to himself, and then he nodded, and exited the room without looking at any of the other men. Steve watched him go, concerned, and then he glanced at Tony and Bruce. Both of them had varying expressions of sympathy on their face, although Tony seemed to be doing a better job of restraining it than Bruce. Probably because he knew Peter needed to learn from this experience, and wasn’t going to outwardly offer him any respite. 

“Uh,” Steve began, and he stood. “I guess I should… go find Nat, ask about… y’know.”

Tony rolled his eyes and exited the living room, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Bruce shared a joint look of exasperation with Steve, before he went the same direction Tony had gone, leaving Steve alone. 

Peter managed to catch up with Cheri near the elevator. She had not called for it to come up to their floor, and instead sat in a squat against the opposite wall, gazing at the steel doors. Peter hesitated in the edge of her vision, standing so that she’d be able to see him, and waited for her to speak. 

Instead of doing so, she turned her head away, effectively removing him from her line of sight. 

“Cher,” Peter started, weakly, and she closed her eyes. “I didn’t - if I had known, I wouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

“I honestly don’t think you should have acted the way you did in any circumstance,” Cheri told him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter admitted. He moved closer to where she sat, and settled down next to her, keeping a safe distance between the two of them. He studied the floor between his feet for a moment. “I guess I’m just used to Ned letting me know when there’s something wrong,” he finally said, “so I just… don’t try to tell if there _ is _ something wrong, when he doesn’t mention anything. And I shouldn’t have been such an asshole, but I just… we’d planned to do this discussion thing for a couple weeks, and I wanted everyone to participate, pay attention, have a good time, if we were actually going to do it. You know?”

Cheri’s shoulders fell, and she finally turned her head a little, so that she could see him again. “I’m sorry I got angry with you,” she murmured. “It’s just - I hate seeing Ned suffer so much, considering all that’s happened this month alone. And then you just… I don’t know. You were so brusque, when I thought you could tell that there was clearly something on his mind. It made me mad.” 

“You were right when you said I should have noticed there was something wrong,” Peter said. “It - we’ve been friends since we were kids, and I should be able to do that, but I didn't because I was too worried about what _ I _wanted, and that got out of hand.” He glanced at her. “I need to apologize to him, but Captain Rogers suggested I just give him some space for a few days.”

“We might not have a few days,” Cheri said, softly, and Peter blinked, realizing that she was right. Ned could be on his way to their apartment right now, ready to pack up his things and head to his childhood home, all without Peter having a chance to talk to him one-on-one. 

He couldn’t let that happen, Peter decided. And he definitely wasn’t going to let Ned go at this whole mess alone. He refused. Ned wouldn’t do that to _ him, _ so why would Peter let it happen to Ned? They were best friends, brothers, even. They should have both been more openly willing for one to lean on the other. Peter would do it for Ned, or for Harry, and he felt certain that they’d do the same for him. 

It was time to prove it. 

He stood up again, and Cheri followed his movement, tilting her head back to look up at him. “I have to go talk to him,” Peter said, and he held his hand out to her. “Come with me?” 

Cheri smiled, a little, and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “I’m going to let you talk to him alone,” she said, and Peter nodded. He then pressed the button to call the elevator, and started to plan out his approach to a conversation with Ned, starting first and foremost with how he could possibly convince Ned that he did not need to move out. 

**71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 4:01 PM**

Peter opened the door to the apartment, standing by himself in the hallway outside it. Cheri had elected to go pick up some dinner for them, before returning home, in order to give Peter and Ned space to talk. Peter appreciated the sentiment, but he thought he might have felt a bit more prepared to walk into the apartment if Cheri had been at his side. 

Still. He needed to talk to Ned. He just hoped that his friend was still here. 

He entered the apartment, closing the door with his shoulder. It clicked shut softly behind him, and he glanced around the living room. The space looked perfectly normal. He could hear the sink in the bathroom running. It couldn’t be Harry, Peter thought, glancing at the time and seeing that his other friend would still be at work for at least another hour. So, unless someone had broken into the apartment and had decided to use their bathroom, which Peter assumed his senses would have warned him of by now, Ned was still in the apartment. 

Peter moved to the couch and sat down, hands clasped between his knees, and waited. After a moment, the door to the bathroom opened, and he heard Ned approach the front room. Heard him pause in the archway connecting it to the hall. Heard him inhale, slightly, and shift his weight, obviously debating turning around and heading for his bedroom instead. 

“Hey,” Peter said before he could, and he turned his head, straightening up so that he could look at his friend. 

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Ned replied, instead of returning the greeting. 

“Yeah, well, I was worried you’d pack up and leave before we could talk more about this,” Peter replied, standing. “So… _ can _ we talk? _ Before _ you pack up and leave?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Peter,” Ned said with a sigh. “If we _ do _ talk about it, it’ll just make things so much harder.”

“Or,_ or, _ maybe it will make things easier,” Peter told him, holding up his hands. “Because we can talk this out, and you can let me figure out how to help you.”

“Maybe I don’t want your help,” Ned said, his voice hard, now. 

Peter stared at him for a second, reading his expression, his body language. He knew his friend. He could do this. 

“You don’t mean that,” he finally said, and watched as Ned’s shoulders fell, and his eyes closed. Peter moved around the couch, and stepped forward to stand in front of him. “Talk to me, Ned,” he said, quietly. “Please. Let me help you, like you've helped me so many times before.”

Ned kept his head bowed for a long moment. Peter waited patiently for him to speak. He’d said what he wanted to, and now the ball was in his friend’s court. Ned could either accept his metaphorical proffered hand, or he could ignore it. And Peter would respect either decision, because whether he liked it or not, this was, fully, Ned’s business. If Ned didn’t want him involved, then Peter wouldn’t try to be. 

However, after a long, kind of tense on Peter’s end, moment of silence, Ned glanced up, met his eyes. 

“I just can’t believe that my dad would cheat,” he said, softly. “My _ dad. _ Aren’t… well, I guess maybe you’re the wrong person to ask this question, but I’m pretty sure dads are supposed to want to be the kind of men that they want their sons to be able to look up to, to want to be when they grow up, right?” 

“Sure,” Peter said. 

“So then… then why would my dad do something like that?” Ned asked. He moved around Peter, sank down on the couch, hanging his head between his hands. “Just - how come he didn’t seem to get the memo about being an example?”

“Do, uh, did you notice anything about your parents maybe having problems?” Peter walked around the other end of the couch, sat down there instead, leaving some space between them. “Just… I know that sometimes a guy will cheat when he’s lonely? Or out of, I don’t know, revenge, maybe?” 

“Well. It wasn’t _ revenge,” _Ned said, sharply, and Peter cringed. 

“No, I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to imply that it was.”

Ned let out a breath. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled. “Sorry, just… I’m pissed.”

“And you should be,” Peter agreed. 

“And I took it out on you, and I’m sorry about that, too,” Ned continued. 

“I should be the one apologizing,” Peter responded. “I should have noticed that there was something wrong, and I didn’t. So, _ I’m _ sorry, for apparently not taking the time to look at my friend, and realize that he was hurting.”

Ned glanced at him again. Peter smiled slightly, and reached out, squeezing his shoulder. “I don’t want you to have to move out,” he said. “Neither does Cheri, and I’m sure Harry won’t want you to, either. So let’s figure out how you can still help your mom and your sister, while staying here.” 

Ned shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to happen, Peter,” he said, quietly. “Just… it’d be easier on them if I were there.”

“All they need is money, right?” Peter asked, and Ned shrugged his shoulders. “To pay bills and stuff. Groceries.”

“Sure.”

“So then you can get them money,” Peter said. “I mean, why do they need you to live with them? If anything, you can go over there every week with a check.”

“Peter, that isn’t -” Ned sighed a little. “You remember what I said about my mom and charity. If I’m not living there, if it isn’t as though I’m helping to support myself by paying the bills and buying groceries, then she’s only going to see me giving them money as a type of charity.”

Peter frowned. “Why wouldn’t she expect her son to help because he wants to?” 

“I don’t know, she’s my mom, she’s stubborn.” Ned straightened up, brushing his hair back. “It isn’t going to work, Peter. I have to move in with them.”

“No, Ned, you don’t,” Peter said. He sounded like he was begging even to himself. “Just - don’t. It’ll be like taking a giant step backwards.” 

“I have to help my family,” Ned told him. 

“But you don’t have to hurt yourself in the process,” Peter insisted. Ned did not respond, and Peter tilted his head, trying to get Ned to look at him again. “Just… I want to help, Ned, and I won’t be able to if you’re not living here. You won’t _ let me, _ if you’re not living here.”

“You’re probably right about that,” Ned admitted, “however much I want to argue.” He rubbed his hands against his thighs. “I just don’t know how else I’m supposed to help them.”

Peter frowned to himself, thinking it over. After a moment, his eyebrows raised, and he smiled instead. He looked at Ned, who offered him a confused expression. 

“What?” he asked. 

“What’s your mom’s resumè look like?” Peter asked, and Ned frowned.


	15. A Job Interview and a Crime Bust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhm... literally what it says in the chapter title is what happens in the chapter. Or, like, is what's talked about in the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am already running out of chapter title ideas please send help.

**September 24th, 2023 - Stark Tower - 58th & Broadway, New York, NY, USA - 2:05 PM**

“I think you’ll make a great addition to Stark Industries,” Kenneth said, shutting the filing folder that sat in front of him. He then looked at Christine Leeds, smiling. “You meet all of the criteria we were looking for in someone to fill a content marketing coordinator position.” 

Christine glanced sideways at Ned, who sat beside her in front of Ken’s desk. Ned smiled at his mother, encouragingly. She inhaled slightly, and looked back at Ken. 

“To be honest, Mr. Hope,” she began, “I never really thought I’d be working in marketing again, but I’ve always been eager for the opportunity.”

“Well, you definitely have it here,” Ken replied, folding his hands on top of the filing folder. “The starting salary is 60,000 a year, plus benefits. Of course, you can review all that in the employee handbook, which we’ll get to you along with all the necessary paperwork. If you want the job, that is.”

“If I want the job,” Christine said, and she smiled. “I do, in fact, want the job, Mr. Hope.”

Ken smiled back, and held out his hand. “Then you should probably call me Ken,” he said. Christine shook his hand. “Welcome aboard. If you want to come with me, we can take care of some of the easier things now, and you can start work as early as next week.”

“Fantastic,” Christine said, standing. She reached her hand out briefly towards Ned, who squeezed it with his own, before he watched her leave the office ahead of Ken. The head of employment winked at him, before stepping out of the office as well, closing the door behind him. 

Ned relaxed in his chair, exhaling a breath. He hadn’t been worried that she wouldn’t take the job, or worried that she wasn’t qualified for the job. His mother had worked at a small marketing company for maybe fifteen years, until his sister had been born, and his father had suggested she stay home with the kids. She often described that decision as the worst one she’d ever made in her entire life, although she only said so whenever she was angry with his father, or Ned or his sister. The word ‘ungrateful’ came up a lot during those conversations, too. 

His mother was still young, had another ten or so years of work in her, considering she’d spent the last twelve at home. Ned thought it would do her good, to get out and back into a normal lifestyle. She had missed doing work, he knew. Maybe she’d manage to make a friend. Or a few friends. He thought that might be nice. 

He stood, and exited Ken’s office, closing the door behind him. The HR department was a lot brighter than IT, which, he supposed, was on brand. All of the HR people also looked healthier than his people down in IT. Ned hoped he didn’t look as sickly as he felt he did compared to them. 

He made a break for the closest elevator, wanting to get out of the sunshine and away from the perfectly coiffed hair as quickly as possible. As he waited for an elevator to arrive, he pulled out his phone, and texted Peter.

> _ Me: You busy? _
> 
> _ Peter: I mean, a little, but no. What happened? _
> 
> _ Me: I’m coming down. _

Ned entered the elevator, and tapped the button for the first floor of R&D, smiling to himself. He couldn’t believe it had worked. Peter had suggested that Ned encourage his mother to look for a job. At first, Ned hadn’t known how well his mother would respond to that, especially the idea of Stark Industries looking for new hires. That part hadn’t been Peter’s idea, but Ned knew it had been what his friend had been hoping for. S.I. paid well; $60,000 a year would be more than enough for his mother to support herself and his sister. 

The elevator reached his floor, and Ned exited it again, looking around the space. Everyone here seemed to have a permanent crease between their brows from concentration. 

Aside from Peter, of course. His friend appeared in front of him, looking worried and excited at the same time. “So?” he asked, hopefully, and Ned smiled. 

“She got the job, and accepted it, zero hesitation,” he said. Peter’s face broke out into a wide grin. 

“Yes! That’s awesome, dude!” He slapped his hand into Ned’s, and Ned had to smile back. Of course he’d already known how much Peter cared, but to see him genuinely happy because things were working out made something inside of Ned glow. 

“Thank you, Peter,” he said, speaking as seriously as he could. 

“What’re you talking about?” Peter asked, still grinning. “I had nothing to do with any of this.” Ned let out a laugh, then jerked his head back in the direction of the elevators.

“Let me buy you lunch.”

“Wouldn’t say no to that,” Peter responded, reaching up around his neck to make sure he had his employee badge, before gesturing. “Lead the way.”

After arguing about where to eat the whole ride down in the elevator, they eventually settled on a nearby deli. After ordering their respective sandwiches, they elected to eat them while walking around Columbus Circle. They ended up on a bench near the statue itself, Ned complaining that walking and eating was a _ bad _ idea. 

“Y’know, once, uh… Mr. Barton defaced this statue,” Peter said, after they’d both finished eating and had been sitting for a while, neither one wanting to get up and dispose of the trash, thus ending their lunch hour. 

“Really?” Ned asked, immediately interested. “Who’d you hear this from?” 

“Nat,” Peter replied. “It happened while they were all living at the old Tower, right? And apparently Clint got _ super _drunk, one night, because he was missing his wife? And so he went on a rampage here in Columbus Circle, just yelling curse words and shooting arrows at the statue. Natasha had to pick him up from the police station.”

Ned snickered. “I can’t believe,” he said, and Peter grinned as well, leaning back on the bench. “That’s crazy, but also fair? Yeah, definitely fair.” Ned frowned at the statue. “Thing should be torn down, probably.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Guy was actually the worst.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, until Peter looked at Ned, a crease between his brows. “Have you seen Harry recently?” he asked, and Ned frowned as well. “I just haven’t seen him in person in, like, three days, and it’s kind of worrying me.”

“Long days at work?” Ned suggested, pulling out his phone to send a text to Harry all the same. Thinking about it, he hadn’t really seen Harry in a few days, either. He hadn’t even had a chance to tell him about his parents, or about the fact that he’d considered moving out to help his mom. He thought maybe he’d just keep that part to himself.

> _ Me: Hey, dude, where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while. _

Harry’s response came a few moments later. 

> _ Harry: I’ve just been busy. Had to go to the hospital earlier this week, no biggie. _

Ned made a face at his phone, and then showed the message to Peter, who immediately blinked. “What the hell is he talking about?” he asked. “Why didn’t he tell us?” 

“I don’t know,” Ned said, and he sent a response to Harry. 

> _Me:_ _The hospital? Shit, man, are you okay? _
> 
> _ Harry: Yeah, perfectly fine. I noticed that my rashes were coming back, and I needed to get a higher dose on my prescription. It was nothing. _
> 
> _ Me: Still, you should have said something to me or Peter. We would have gone with you. _
> 
> _ Harry: Haha, I didn’t need you to. Thanks for worrying about me, though, Mother. I should see you guys tonight. We can get dinner, maybe. _
> 
> _ Me: Yeah, all right. _

“Harry said we should see him tonight,” Ned said, and Peter nodded, pacified. “And his rashes were coming back, which is why he went to the hospital, I guess,” Ned continued with a shrug. “They upped his prescription dosage.” 

“Yikes,” Peter murmured, mostly to himself. 

In his hand, Ned’s phone buzzed again, and he glanced down at it. 

> _ Harry: I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Peter didn’t tell you about the hospital trip. He seemed a little off, when I saw him last night. _

Ned frowned down at the phone screen, and then at Peter, who sat picking at the cellophane his sandwich had been wrapped in. 

> _ Me: You saw Peter last night? He told me he hasn’t talked to you in days. _
> 
> _ Harry: No? Lmao. We watched Wheel of Fortune together last night, ate some ramen that I picked up. You were with your mom, I think, and Cheri was still at ESU. _
> 
> _ Harry: Guess he’s even more off than I thought he was. _
> 
> _ Me: Yeah… guess so. _

Ned looked at Peter, ready to ask him about what Harry had said, but Peter spoke before he could: “Does that mean he’s getting worse?” he asked in reference to the higher dosage, and Ned frowned, before lifting his shoulders. 

“I’d assume so, but he doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal, so… maybe it doesn’t?” He shook his head. “I never really understood what Harry has, anyway, so I guess if the guy with the illness isn’t concerned by something, maybe we shouldn’t be, either.”

Peter’s own phone chirped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. As he examined the message, Ned studied his friend, wondering how he could have forgotten about seeing Harry only the night before. Maybe he hadn’t been getting enough sleep or something. But… even then, Harry had told him about his visit to the hospital, and surely Peter wouldn’t have forgotten that, yet he’d been completely surprised by it, when Ned had told him.

_ What the hell is going on? _

He saw Peter’s frown deepen, and he glanced at Ned. “I have to go,” he said. 

“Go? As in, like, go go?” Ned asked, standing up with him, adrenaline immediately overtaking all his other thoughts. Peter nodded, hurriedly carting their garbage over to the closest trash can. “But you’re working!” 

“Yeah, but it - it’s the chief of police,” Peter replied through his teeth, glancing at a lady who walked past them without a glance, moving briskly towards the closest crosswalk. 

Ned’s eyes widened. He had to hurry to keep up with Peter as they started back in the direction of Stark Tower. “The _ chief of police? _How - when did you get in contact with the chief of police?” 

Peter sighed. “It’s kind of a long story, but basically, Cheri and I stopped a kidnapping, and one of the cops that came to help suggested I get in touch with the chief, said they could use my help.”

“Your help as in… this cop knows that you’re Spider-Man?” Ned demanded, and Peter shook his head. 

“No, of course not. I called the chief, told her it was Spider-Man, and that if she ever needed my help, she could reach me at the number I was calling from.” He shook his head. “Mr. Stark made it so that my number wouldn’t be traceable in any system a long time ago, so it wasn’t a big deal. This is the first time she’s actually contacted me; it’s about Fisk.”

Ned wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Fuck,” he said, and Peter nodded. “I mean, obviously it’s super important, then, but I - what’re you going to do about work?” 

“I’ll just - I don’t know,” Peter sighed. They paused in front of the glass doors of Stark Tower, and he examined the ground for a moment, before cursing. “I guess I’ll have to tell Mr. Stark, and just… hope that the intermediary between the two of us doesn’t get _ too _ pissed.” 

Ned’s shoulders fell. “You can’t do that every time something like this happens, though,” he said. 

“No, I can’t,” Peter agreed, “but hopefully, it won’t happen again for a while, and I won’t have to worry about it until then.” He opened the door for Ned. “I’ll call Mr. Stark on my way.” 

“Okay,” Ned said, stepping into the building. “I’ll see you later?” 

Peter nodded in agreement, and jogged away again, Ned watching him go through the glass of the doors. He just hoped Peter made it home before Cheri did, so that he wouldn’t have to tell her what was going on. Ned sincerely doubted that Cheri would be okay with the fact that the chief of police of New York City now had Spider-Man’s personal phone number. 

**71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 10:09 PM**

Peter slowly slid open the window of his bedroom, and crept into the apartment through it, carefully closing the window again with his foot. He dropped to the floor, relieved that the light in the room was off, and Cheri was apparently already asleep. He’d been counting on this, in fact, so that he wouldn’t need to have a conversation with her about what he’d been doing for the last eight hours. 

Even as he started to tug his suit off, however, the light switched on. Cheri cleared her throat from behind him. Peter winced, and turned slowly to face her, suit hanging halfway off his torso. 

Cheri sat on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed, and her eyes narrowed. Peter offered her an apologetic grimace, which Cheri ignored, if the lack of change in her expression indicated anything. Peter sighed, and finished pulling off his suit. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, Peter?” Cheri asked, her tone pleasant. Still, he winced again. _ Peter. Uh-oh. _ “For… I don’t know, completely ignoring my calls? And my texts? Or for not letting me know that you’d be gone for, what is it now, almost eight hours? _ Or _ for not telling me that you gave the chief of police your fucking _ phone number?” _

Peter groaned a little. “Ned was supposed to keep that to himself,” he told her, and Cheri let out a scoff, standing up, her hands in the air. “Okay, okay, wrong thing to say,” Peter said, quickly, and he darted in front of the door before she could stalk out of the bedroom. “I’m sorry, okay? I was dealing with something pretty important, and I couldn’t answer your calls in the middle of it.”

Cheri stared at him. “What was it?” she asked, and Peter exhaled a breath. 

“Wilson Fisk,” he said. Cheri’s expression shifted, and her eyes softened a bit. “I mean - the chief, she said they’d finally gotten enough to actually arrest him, and she wanted my help.” He rubbed at the back of his head. “Things went a little sideways, though. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be, and we had to go looking for him. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past four hours.” 

“And?” Cheri prompted.

“We caught him!” Peter said. He broke into a grin, despite the situation. “I - do you know how long I’ve wanted to put him away, Cher? _ Years. _I’ve been fighting against his expansive crime network since, like, I started college, and now he’s going to the Raft.” He let out a breath, and glanced down. “Still, though, there’s his son to worry about. George thinks -”

“George?” 

Peter closed one eye, smiling sheepishly. “The chief. Georgia Carr.”

“Ah,” Cheri said, crossing her arms again. She inhaled a slow breath, and turned away from him. Peter took the opportunity to pull a shirt on, and then he turned to face her again. She’d sunk back down on the edge of the bed, and she had her hands together beneath her chin. 

“I’m not… well, okay, I _ am _ mad,” she finally said. “I’m mad that you didn’t let me know what was going on, and I had to sit here, worried, for _ hours, _ wondering if you were okay. I’m also mad that, apparently, you had no intention of telling me that the chief of police has your phone number.” She looked at him. “Should I expect your phone to be going off all the time, now?” 

Peter sighed. “The police aren’t completely incapable without my help,” he said. “I think I’ll only be called in when it’s something big like this bust was supposed to be. Other things will still be coming through via that other crime alert system I set up.” 

Cheri gazed at him, and Peter crossed the room to squat down in front of her, taking her hands in his. He ran his thumb across the back of one of hers, meeting her eyes. “Nothing major is going to change, okay?” Cheri made a face. “I’m serious. I’d rather be friends with the chief of police, working with the police in general, than going around them to do my job. This will just make things easier, and I’ll have less to worry about in terms of getting reprimanded, I guess. Does that make sense?” 

“What does Mr. Stark have to say about this?” Cheri asked him after a moment of silence. 

“Does it matter?” Cheri merely gave him a look, and Peter clicked his tongue. “He thinks it’s a good idea.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Cheri said, clearly disappointed, and Peter glanced down at their joined hands. After a moment, Cheri pulled hers from his, and she laid down, rolling onto her side, facing away from him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she murmured.

Peter watched her for a moment, waiting for more. None came. His shoulders fell, and he exited the bedroom, in order to take a quick shower. Five minutes later, he returned, clean, and lingered next to the bed, uncertain. Cheri exhaled a breath. 

“Come to bed, Queens," she invited, still facing away from him. 

Peter didn't move. “You’re at least kind of happy for me, right?” he asked. “I - this guy was like, my Magnum Opus, Cher, and I _ got him.” _

Cheri studied the wall for a moment, before she smiled, a little, and nodded. “Yes,” she said, turning over so that she could look at him. “I’m happy that you were able to take a major crime boss off the streets,” she told him. “I just wish you would’ve let me know that that’s what you were doing.” She scooted closer to the wall. “I think you deserve some sleep.”

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed, and he crawled into bed with her. He switched out the light again, and they lay in silence for a moment. Peter could still feel the adrenaline of what he’d managed to accomplish that evening pumping through his entire being. He was surprised the bed wasn’t shaking with his energy. 

He relaxed a little when he felt Cheri’s hand touch his arm. He turned his head in her direction, watched her blink in the darkness. “I love you,” she said, quietly, “and I _ am _ happy for you, but I… can you promise me that you won’t be gone all the time, now that the chief of police has the ability to call you whenever she needs to?” 

Peter smiled. “Yes,” he said, and he reached out, brushing a curl out of her face and behind her ear. “I promise.” 

Cheri breathed in the silence between them for a moment, before she murmured, “All right,” and then rolled over onto her other side. Peter gazed at the back of her head for a few more seconds, and then he flipped onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, a hand resting on his chest. His heart was finally beginning to steady back to it’s normal accelerated pace. 

“Treble,” he said, when he hadn’t heard her breathing slow down and knew she hadn’t yet fallen asleep. 

“What?” 

“I love you, too,” he told her. 

“Go to sleep, Pete,” she said after a moment, and Peter smiled again, his eyes falling shut. The conversation could have gone much worse, he knew, so he felt pretty good with the way that it had ended. No doubt, however, there was more to come in the morning. He’d just have to deal with it then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Clint Barton shooting arrows at the statue in Columbus Circle in a drunken rampage comes from ["1796 Broadway"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/972937/chapters/1912625), which is a Marvel fic here on Ao3 by rainproof and teaberryblue. Aside from the MCU movies themselves, I'd probably give their fic the award of "Pieces of Media That Helped To Grow My Love For Marvel Stuff". If you have the free time to read a 460,000 word story that's mostly written in the form of letters, then by golly, go do it. Fuckin' thing changed my damn life.


	16. It Actually Gets Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It... well. Stuff starts to break down. Pretty rapidly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's subtext in this chapter title I lied last time, sorry, but I couldn't let this opportunity slip through my hands.

**September 25th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 7:45 AM**

Peter woke to find Cheri already out of bed. He lifted his head, blinking, and spotted her standing at the closet, putting clothes on. She turned at the sound of his movement, offered him a smile that may or may not have been real, and faced the closet again, pulling out a shirt. 

Peter fell back against the pillows, swallowing. He really needed a drink of water. And to brush his teeth. 

“I uh -” he began, and Cheri paused putting the shirt on over her head, glancing at him. Peter hesitated, and then sighed. “Never mind.” 

“No, say it,” Cheri invited, tugging the shirt on and adjusting the sleeves. “Might as well.”

Peter did not reply, and Cheri turned to look at him, crossing her arms. He stared at her, managed a thin smile. “I like that shirt.”

Cheri did not look amused. “Peter -” 

Before she could finish whatever she’d wanted to say, however, he’d already hopped out of bed and out the door, headed for the bathroom. Cheri gazed at the place he had been on the bed for a moment, sighing to herself. So much for talking about it while they were still in the privacy of their bedroom. 

She walked out into the main room of the apartment, and found Ned sitting on the couch, examining his phone. He looked up, and she watched as his smile quickly turned into a frown. 

“What happened?” he asked. “Peter came home, right?” 

“Yes,” Cheri said. “At… I want to say ten, I think.” She shook her head. “We didn’t really talk about it, though, so I’m hoping we can do that this morning, before he runs off to work and forgets his personal life in research and development.” 

Ned’s smile returned, just briefly, and Cheri gestured towards his phone as she walked towards the kitchen to start breakfast. “Anything in the news?” she asked. “About that fire, maybe?” 

“Mm, no,” Ned said. “I guess it wasn’t an arsonist after all. Wilson Fisk is a big hit this morning, though.” He looked over at her. “Was that partially Peter’s doing?”

“Yep, Spider-Man’s a hero, helping save New York by stopping one crime boss at a time,” Cheri replied, cracking a few eggs into a bowl to scramble. “Do you want eggs, Ned?” 

“Yes, please,” he responded, happily. “When do you have class?” 

“Not until eleven,” Cheri answered. “I want to go and see Mr. Stark, though, before I head to campus.”

Ned lifted his eyebrows. “What for?” 

Cheri lifted her shoulder. “Just… y’know. To talk.”

“Cheri,” Ned said, but she did not look at him, nor did she respond. Ned sighed to himself, glancing down at his phone again. “You should really talk to Peter about these sorts of things, since they directly involve him.”

He heard Cheri clang a frying pan down onto the stove with a bit more force than necessary. “Did I ask, Ned?” she queried, sharply. 

“No,” Ned said, relenting in the face of her annoyance. “Sorry.”

Ten minutes later, as Cheri plated up the eggs she’d made, Peter appeared, dressed and smelling as though he’d taken a shower. He very carefully did not look in the direction of the kitchen as he sat down on the couch next to Ned, pulling out his own phone. “Morning.”

“Hey,” Ned returned, glancing sideways at him. “Sleep good?”

“Mm,” Peter hummed, which was not necessarily a response. Ned looked back at the kitchen again, only to find Cheri standing right behind where he and Peter sat on the couch, two plates in her hands. 

“Here,” she said, setting them down in their laps. Peter cursed as his tipped, spilling a piece of toast buttered-side down onto the carpet. “Oops. My bad,” Cheri said, flatly, turning and walking back towards the kitchen. 

Peter inhaled, slowly, and reached down to pick up the toast. He set it and the plate down on the coffee table, and went back to looking through his phone. Ned very carefully stood up, holding his plate in one hand, phone in the other. 

“I think… I’ll eat in my room,” he said, quietly. “Just, y’know, for the sake of… uh, not being choked to death by the tension.” 

He exited the living room, taking his plate with him. Before he closed the door to his bedroom, he glanced down the hall, and he saw the exact moment Cheri made up her mind to speak to Peter. Ned very quickly stepped into his room and shut the door, shaking his head a little. 

“Very bad,” he commented to a Lego model of Darth Vader, which gazed back at him, unresponsive. 

In the front room, Cheri stared down at the bowl of cereal she held in her hands. “So,” she said, speaking up, and she heard Peter let out a quiet groan, probably hoping that she wouldn’t hear it. She considered not saying anything about it, decided that no, she _ deserved _ to say something, and frowned at the back of his head. “Sorry?”

“Hm?” Peter glanced briefly over his shoulder at her, then shook his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Peter,” Cheri began. “We have to talk.”

He'd already stiffened. _Peter._ “About what?” 

“About you not telling me that you’ll be gone for so long,” Cheri responded. “I know that last night it was a big deal, but while you were searching for Fisk, you could have sent me a text. Don’t try to tell me that you couldn’t have, that you didn’t have time. I know you can ask your AI to send a text from inside the suit.” 

Peter did not respond, and Cheri walked closer to the couch. “I don’t want to be one of those girlfriends that’s on top of her boyfriend all the time,” she continued, “so please don’t turn me into one, okay? I just ask that you let me know where you are, and how long you’re going to be, if it gets to be, like, ten at night, and I haven’t seen you all day.”

She saw Peter’s shoulders tense, and knew that it was useless to try and discuss this rationally with him. A fight was always going to come out of this conversation, no matter when she decided to have it. 

“Sometimes,” he began, “I’m not going to be able to do that. Whether it be that I’m incredibly busy, or I’m tailing someone and I can’t be distracted. There are _ so many _ different reasons that I won’t be able to stop what I’m doing in order to ease your mind.”

“I think the real issue here is that you don’t seem to even _ want _ to be able to take the time to do that,” Cheri said. 

“Are you _ kidding me?” _Peter demanded, standing up and whipping around to face her. “You have to be.”

“I’m not,” she said, adjusting her grip on the bowl of cereal. “I know you, Peter. After what happened in Central Park, you wouldn’t want to leave me out of the loop, when I ask you to tell me certain things. You’d want me to know you’re safe. So I don’t understand what’s changed since then, to make you suddenly decide that maybe I don’t deserve to know.”

“You worry too much,” Peter exclaimed. “That’s literally all this conversation is about.”

“Is it worrying too much when you don’t contact me after _ eight hours?” _ Cheri demanded. “And you didn’t let me know beforehand what was going on?”

“Yes!” Peter shouted, throwing up his hands. “There isn’t anything for you to fucking worry about, Cheri! I’ve been doing this for _eight_ _years!” _

“And?” Cheri retorted. “That doesn’t mean that there’s less chance of you getting hurt, or getting caught. What if you get, I don’t know, _ shot_, or something, and I have no idea? What then? Am I going to get a call from the fucking hospital, telling me that you’re in surgery, and they have no idea what kind of blood to give you in a transfusion because yours is so fucking weird?” 

Peter stared at her for a moment, eyes blazing. “I’m not going to get shot,” he finally muttered. “I’m not going to end up in a hospital. It isn’t going to happen.”

“You can’t be sure of that!” Cheri exclaimed. She let out a breath, and looked down again. Her hands were shaking, and she had to set down the bowl of cereal before she dropped it. She rotated around to face him again, and said, quietly, “I just… I don’t want to not have any idea about what’s going on. I just want you to communicate with me, when you can, to let me know that you’re okay.” 

“You don’t seem to get that I’m not always going to be able to do that!” 

“So give me some sort of resource to where I can reassure myself!” Cheri returned. “Your suit is a fucking multi-million dollar piece of technology. I’m sure there’s someway that it can send an alert to my phone after so many hours that let’s me know you’re still alive!”

“So you think I’m going to _ die, _ now,” Peter said, darkly. “Great. I’m _ so happy _ you have so much faith in me and what I do, Cheri.” 

Cheri stared at him for a moment longer, speechless. “You know what?” she finally said, feeling defeated. “I’m - I’m done. I can’t… you apparently can’t have a normal conversation with me, right now, and I’m not going to stand here and suffer through whatever _ this _ is.”

She walked away, heading into their bedroom and picking up her bag and her phone. Returning to the front room, she saw that he’d sat back down, and was staring at the blank TV. 

“When you decide that we can talk about this like we’re both adults,” she said, grabbing her keys and pulling open the front door, “let me know.”

Peter winced as the front door slammed shut behind her, and he scrubbed an angry hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. Cursing, he slapped his hand down on the couch beside him, and then closed his eyes, inhaling. What the _ fuck _ had that been? 

He heard a noise in the hall, and then Ned moving around in the kitchen, rinsing off his plate. The sink shut off, then turned back on again, presumably when Ned found Cheri's uneaten cereal on the counter. Peter waited through the sound of the running water, which seemed to echo in his head, before he stood up and stalked away towards his bedroom. 

Ned stood in the kitchen, blinking in utter confusion. What the hell was going on? He’d heard the fight, heard the front door slam, but… Peter would have talked to him about it, normally. Talked it through with him. It was the whole reason he’d come out of his bedroom. 

He frowned to himself, glancing at the clock on the wall. There had to be something wrong. Things were not the way they should have been. 

He pulled out his phone, and sent a message to Harry, who’d apparently had some foresight and escaped the apartment before any of the rest of them had even woken up.

> _ Me: You were right about Peter being off. I think there’s something wrong. _

Harry replied after a few minutes, the tone of the text nonchalant.

> _ Harry: He’s probably just stressed about work or something. _

Ned gazed at the message, sighing. He wished that he could agree with Harry’s assessment, but knowing what he did about Peter’s Spider-Man escapades, and his recent disagreement with Cheri about it, he could not. There had to be something more to it, and Ned almost didn’t want to know what it was. 

Another message from Harry popped up on his screen.

> _ Harry: Is he being mean, still? _
> 
> _ Me: Oh yeah, big time. _
> 
> _ Harry: Holy shit, you think he’s taking steroids or something? _

Ned blinked at his phone. 

> _ Me: What the fuck, no. _
> 
> _ Harry: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Just thinking of all the possibilities. _

Ned snorted, and put his phone in his pocket. Peter was not taking steroids. Ned doubted that steroids would even _ work _ on Peter. 

He puttered around the front room of the apartment for about half-an-hour, not really doing much, but wanting to give Peter his space before they had to leave for work. Thankfully, he didn’t have to go knock on Peter’s door or anything. His friend emerged into the living room right at the time they usually left the apartment, looking a bit… well, gloomy, Ned thought. 

“Ready to go?” Ned asked, doing his best to keep his tone neutral. He didn’t think Peter would respond well to cheerfulness. 

He was right. Peter merely grunted in response, and gestured vaguely. Ned nodded, and walked towards the door, making a face at nothing. _ Yikes. _

They headed down to the street together, after Ned locked the apartment door, and walked to the closest subway station. As they stood waiting for their train, Ned looked everywhere but at his friend. He did not like seeing Peter this way, and hoped that a day of work would take his mind off of whatever was bothering him so much. 

As they climbed on the train, however, and Peter cursed quietly at someone who bumped into him, Ned decided that maybe they needed to have a short chat about his attitude, recently. 

“Hey,” he started, and Peter glanced briefly at him, shrugging his shoulder in acknowledgement. “What’s going on with you lately, man?” Ned asked, keeping it casual. “I mean, your temper has been super short, and that’s not normal for you.”

Peter did not respond at first, and for a moment, Ned thought that he wouldn’t respond at all. Finally, however, his friend shook his head. 

“I just have a lot to think about,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Okay,” Ned said, carefully. “You know that you can talk to me about any of that stuff, right?” Peter did not answer. “Just… it might help, if you could talk about it with someone else, is all I’m saying.”

“Why don’t you just let me deal with my shit in _ peace?” _ Peter demanded, his voice raising very suddenly. He startled a woman sitting on a seat behind where he stood, and she actually shifted down a few seats away from him. 

Ned offered her a thin smile of apology, and looked at his friend again. “You wouldn’t let me deal with mine alone, what makes you think I’m going to let you deal with yours without me?” he questioned, allowing his voice to sound just the slightest bit frustrated. “I want to be there to help you, dude, just like you were there for me.”

“I don’t _ need _ your help,” Peter told him, sharply. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“You don’t have to pretend that you have a handle on everything just because you’re a fucking superhero,” Ned muttered. 

“I’m _ not _ pretending,” Peter said. His eyes burned with actual anger, and Ned frowned. He couldn’t recall a time where Peter had been _ legitimately _ angry with him, ever. Not in recent memory. “You want to help? Stop fucking asking me to talk about it. I don’t need you on my back about that sort of thing, too. I get enough of it from Cheri.”

“Oh, _ Jesus,” _ Ned exclaimed. “Is that _ seriously _ what you’re pissed off about? Cheri is your _ girlfriend, _ dude. It makes perfect sense that she’d want to talk to you about stuff. It’s how a healthy relationship works!”

Peter snorted. “You’re the last person I’d come to for relationship advice.”

_ All right. That one kind of hurt. _ Ned stared at him for a moment. “Y’know, Harry suggested that you might be on steroids,” he said, and Peter let out a scoff. “Yeah, see, that’s how I reacted, too, but honestly, I’m not so sure. This isn’t _ you, _ Peter.”

“You think steroids would work on me, even if I wanted them too?” Peter asked, annoyed. _ “Nothing _ like that works on me, Ned.” He crossed his arms, ignoring the look someone gave him, clearly wondering at the fact that he’d just willingly let go of a pole that was meant to keep people upright while the subway was moving. “I’ve tried.”

_ Well. New information. _ “You’ve tried drugs?” Ned asked, lowering his voice. “Peter -”

“Don’t act like you haven’t.”

“I _ haven’t,” _ Ned responded, flabbergasted. “But now I’m wondering when _ you _ did.”

“It was just an experiment,” Peter said, shrugging one shoulder. “It was no big deal.” 

“No big deal?” Ned couldn’t believe what was coming out of his friend right now. “Are you _ kidding? _ You had to have tried different amounts, right? What if a seriously large batch _ had _ done something, and you ended up dead?”

Peter rolled his eyes upwards. “Why does everyone suddenly think I’m going to die?” 

“Maybe because you’re not telling us anything that gives us confidence otherwise!” Ned replied. “Seriously, what is _ wrong _ with you?”

Peter shot him a dirty look. “Why does there have to be something wrong with _ me?” _ he asked. “Why can’t the issue lie with you?” 

“Because I’m not the one acting like a fucking jackass!” 

“You’re not, huh?” Peter snorted. “I asked you to stop telling Harry so much about what goes on with my life.”

“I _ did _ stop,” Ned told him. “I haven’t talked about you with Harry since -”

“Since thirty minutes ago, when you texted him about the fight I had with Cheri?” Peter interrupted. 

Ned stared at him. “That’s because I wanted to let him know I’ve realized that you’re acting strange, too,” he said, carefully. “Harry’s already brought it up with me.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “He said that he’d already told you, about going to the hospital.”

Peter frowned, and snorted. “Oh yeah? When does he think he did that?”

“The night before last,” Ned told him. “He said you ate dinnertogether, even though _ you _ told me that you hadn’t seen him in awhile.”

“I _ haven’t _ seen him,” Peter said, although there was just the slightest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “That’s the whole reason I brought it up.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve forgotten something,” Ned commented, “although it would be the first time you’ve forgotten an entire fucking evening.” 

“I didn’t… forget,” Peter said. He was speaking more softly, now, and Ned could tell that he was doubting himself. “I…” He trailed off, looked at Ned. “Did Harry really say we saw one another?” he asked.

Ned recognized the tone of his voice. Peter was _ worried. _ He much preferred this to the anger, because maybe a Peter that was worried would be willing to talk, figure out what the hell was going on. 

“Yes,” he said, and Peter looked away again, brow furrowed. “I didn’t tell you yesterday, because you ran off so quick.” Peter shook his head a little, and Ned lifted an eyebrow. “You can’t remember it at all?” 

“I - no,” Peter murmured. “I can’t.” He blinked a few times, shook his head again, and then huffed out a breath. “It - it couldn’t have happened. I’d remember Harry telling me he went to the hospital. I’d _ have _ to remember that.”

Ned had thought the same thing, the day before, but now, he couldn’t be so sure. “Are you positive you haven’t taken any type of drug lately?” he asked, just to clarify. 

Peter’s head turned in his direction, and Ned grimaced, seeing the anger back on his face. “No, Ned. For fuck’s sake, I haven’t taken any drugs.” 

“Then something else must be going on,” Ned murmured, gazing at him. “And we’re going to have to find out what it is.”

Peter stared back for a moment, before turning away again. “Just let me deal with it, okay?” he mumbled. “I don’t - it’s my problem.”

Ned sighed, but did not respond. He gave up. Peter just wasn’t hearing him. He’d have to try again later, maybe when his friend seemed to be acting at least _ relatively _ normally. And, hopefully, when he knew that Peter would even remember _ this _ conversation. 

Until then, he supposed, he could start researching different drugs that led to memory loss and mood swings. That might be a good place to start, no matter what Peter said about drugs not having an effect on him. There was clearly _ something _ causing it to happen, and Ned did not think it was because Peter had a lot on his mind. 

**Stark Tower - Broadway & W. 58th St., New York, NY, USA - 8:45 AM**

Tony closed the lid of his laptop, cursing under his breath. Damn press wouldn’t leave him alone about information on the break-in. Why couldn’t they give it a rest? The thing had happened a month ago, now, and the floors that had been broken into had mostly been cleaned out, damages repaired. What was left to report on, besides the fact that the owner of the Tower had no interest in finding out who had done it? 

He rolled his eyes, pushed away from his desk and stood, stretching. Not that anyone would let him forget it. Natasha was still hard at work trying to find the missing security footage. Maybe Tony needed to restrict her access. He snorted at the idea. Nat would just be able to work her way back in. 

There was a knock on the door of his office, and Tony turned towards it, an eyebrow raising as he lifted his watch to check the time. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, and one of his PAs wouldn’t be making their routine check-in for another fifteen minutes. 

“Come in,” he said, curious, and the door opened. He grinned when he saw who’d been the one to knock on it. “Hey! Couldn’t stay away for more than a month?” 

Cheri smiled back, stepping into the office. The door fell closed behind her. “Something like that,” she said, and she tilted her head. “How’re you doing?” 

“Ah, you know, business as usual,” he replied, walking back around his desk and sinking once more into the desk chair. He kicked his feet up onto the desk, and gestured towards one of the armchairs in front of it. “Sit down, sit,” he said.

Cheri sat, dropping her book bag onto the floor next to the chair. Tony tilted his head, examining her for a moment. He’d gotten pretty good at reading people over the years, both as a business man and a superhero, and from the way Cheri currently sat, he thought that maybe she was present in his office for more than a friendly visit. 

“So,” he started, picking up a pen and twirling it through his fingers. “What’s going on? Pretty sure I just saw you, so… there’s gotta be something up, right?” He smirked. “Trouble in paradise?” 

Cheri winced, and Tony’s smile immediately fell. He sat up straight in his chair, lowering his feet to the floor. “There is,” he said, slowly. 

“Not - not necessarily,” Cheri replied, and she reached up to play with the chain of her necklace. “You know, uhm… Peter said that he told you, about the chief of police having his phone number?” 

Tony’s shoulders fell. He should have guessed that that was what this was about. “Yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “He did. Did he also tell you I think it’s a stupid idea, that they’ll never leave him alone, now?” 

“No, he tried to tell me that you said it was a great idea, and I called him on his bullshit,” Cheri said. “I wish he wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t have a problem with it, but it’s - I can’t help but feel like he’s going to be gone all the time, now, and I’m never going to know where.” She glanced at Tony. “Which is why I’m here. I thought about asking Ned to help me, but I know he’d tell Peter. You won’t.”

“Tell Peter what, Peanuts?” Tony queried, setting the pen down again. 

Cheri chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “I want to be able to track his suit,” she said, quietly. 

Tony’s brow creased as he frowned. “Track his suit, huh?” he asked, and he let out a breath, leaning forward again. He rested his hands on the top of his desk as he thought the request over. “Cheri, Peter’s an adult,” he finally said. “I told him that once he turned 21, I wouldn’t be on his back all the time, making sure that he was doing all right while out protecting the city.”

“And you won’t be,” Cheri said. “I don’t - this isn’t about me wanting to know where he is all the time, Mr. Stark. This is just so that, when he doesn’t come home after five hours and he won’t answer any of my calls, I’ll be able to know where he is, and that he’s at least… I don’t know, _ moving. _ So I’ll know that he’s still alive.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Did he do that to you? Ignore your calls?” 

“Yes,” Cheri sighed, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair, her forehead in her hand. “Scared the hell out of me. Ned told me he was doing his thing, but that didn’t make me feel any better.” She closed her eyes. “I just worry about him, and it doesn’t help when he can’t answer my calls, or send me a text message saying that he’s okay.”

Tony sighed, leaning back again. First, he’d need to have a talk with Peter about leaving Cheri out of the loop like that. The last thing either of them needed was for her to develop anxiety because he couldn’t be bothered to even send her a text message. He could see, just from looking at her, that the stress of worrying about Peter was starting to affect her physically, too. There were dark bags beneath her eyes, and she currently sat in front of him chewing on her thumbnail. No, Peter needed to make a change. 

Secondly, he supposed he could do something for Cheri to help ease her mind, while Peter was figuring out how to make that change. He could still gain access into the hardware of Peter’s suit, since he’d been the one to design it, build it, and it had an AI of his making running it. He could implement a tracking feature for her, and maybe could even make it so that all her texts were pushed through, whether Peter wanted to ignore them or not. Maybe not phone calls, since Tony knew that could end badly if Peter was in a situation where he needed to be stealthy, but a text… what harm could that do, other than remind Peter that there was someone worrying about him, somewhere. 

If Cheri wasn’t so obviously being affected by the issue, Tony wouldn’t be considering doing these things. He’d meant it, when he’d told Peter that he could work on his own, and he wanted to continue to leave him to do so. However, the kid couldn’t put himself in risky situations without letting his girlfriend know where he was, or even if he was okay. Tony wouldn’t stand for that; he’d made that mistake too many times himself. 

“All right,” he said, and Cheri immediately perked up, a light returning to her dark brown eyes. Tony nodded. “I’ll figure it out, get you an app or something connected to a tracking unit in his suit.” He tilted his head, gazing at her. “But we’re going to tell Peter it’s going in.”

Cheri’s expression fell almost at once. “I don’t want him to think I don’t trust him,” she said. 

“What does this have to do with trust?” Tony asked her. “You just want to know that he’s okay.” 

“He takes his suit with him everywhere, Mr. Stark,” Cheri responded. “You think he won’t assume that I’ll be checking the GPS while he’s at work or something, just to make sure that’s where he actually is? Or what if he decides to do something incredibly dangerous, and manages to turn the tracker off or whatever?” She shook her head. “We can’t tell him, because he’ll find ways around it. He doesn’t want me to know.”

Tony continued to study her for a moment. He could see that she truly believed what she’d just said, that Peter did not want her to know where he was, what he was doing. The fact that she thought this scared the hell out of him, because it meant that there was reason for her to believe it. Tony did not want to know what those reasons were, but he knew that he needed to find out. 

Instead of telling Cheri this, he sank back into his chair, turning his eyes away from her. “Fine,” he said, quietly. “We won’t tell him.” He exhaled, and gestured. “I’ll probably need a couple of days, and I’ll have to take your phone.”

“Fine,” Cheri said. She reached for her book bag. While she rooted around in it for her phone, Tony considered how he’d approach the conversation he obviously needed to have with Peter. Bringing up the fact that he’d made the same mistake over and over again might not be the best choice, but maybe it would be what Peter needed to realize that he _ really _ shouldn’t be doing the same thing. After all, who lived a more lonely life than Tony? That wasn’t what Peter wanted. 

Cheri found her phone, and slid it across the desk towards him. Tony then looked at her again, and managed a smile. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” he said, and she nodded. “All right. Anything else?”

“No,” she said, and she glanced at her watch. “I need to get over to ESU for class.” She stood up, and Tony did as well, to walk her to the door. She smiled softly at him. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. I - I know it isn’t what I should be doing about this, but I - I know that Peter won’t want to talk about it, and I really don’t want to start a fight with him.”

“But you do realize that if he figures out what you’re doing, that’ll be an even bigger fight, right?” Tony queried, and Cheri nodded again. “All right. As long as you know, I guess I’ll leave you to make your own mistakes.”

Cheri glanced up, met his eyes. Her own were serious. “This is the furthest thing from a mistake,” she said. 

Tony blinked. “You really think that, don’t you?” His shoulders fell. “And maybe you’re right.” 

Cheri hugged him around the middle without warning, and Tony sighed, returning the hug for a moment. Cheri pulled back again, and smiled once more, before she exited the office, pulling the door open on her own. Tony watched her until the door had closed again.

**4:40 PM**

Peter hesitantly reached up and knocked on the door of Tony’s office. He’d gotten a voicemail from his mentor, saying that he wanted to speak with Peter as soon as he had free time. Peter hadn’t gotten any, during the day, and now he was technically supposed to be on his way home, but the voicemail had made it sound important. Also, a voicemail. If it _ hadn’t _ been important, Tony probably would have just sent him a text. 

Thus, he stood in front of Tony’s office door, waiting to see if the boss was still in to speak with him tonight, because he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until he knew what Tony had wanted to talk about. He briefly wondered if there’d be any food left for him by the time he got home; Harry had said he’d help Cheri cook his mother’s baked macaroni recipe, and Peter really wanted some. He was starving. 

“Come on in, Pete,” Tony called, and Peter opened the door, pausing in the doorway. Tony sat at his desk, glasses pushed up onto his forehead. He let them fall down as he looked up, and he smiled. “What? I’m not going to bite.”

Peter grinned back, immediately feeling much more relaxed. He entered the office fully, closing the door. “Have a seat,” Tony invited, gesturing to one of the armchairs. “I just need to finish this really quick, and then we’ll talk.”

Peter settled down in the armchair, resting his hands on his thighs. He really needed to work on getting some sort of cooling system into his suit, because wearing it beneath his work clothes all day was _ not _ the most comfortable thing in the world. 

“What _ are _we talking about?” he asked after a few seconds. “I mean, I figured it was important, since you actually called me, but maybe it wasn’t important enough to where you came down to R&D looking for me? At least, no one said you came down looking for me.” 

“It’s pretty important,” Tony said, scratching some figures down onto a spreadsheet with a pen, “but I didn’t want to take you away from work.” He glanced up briefly. “Am I keeping you from something at home?” 

Peter shrugged. “I mean, we were all going to have dinner together tonight, but that’s not - I mean, they won’t miss me if I’m a little late.” 

“Mm,” Tony hummed, and then he wrote down a few final things, before setting the pen down as well. He then moved the spreadsheet off to the side, pressing a sticky note onto the front of it, before he looked at Peter again, lifting his glasses once more onto his head. “All right,” he said, folding his hands across his chest. 

“Okay,” Peter repeated, doing his best to mimic how relaxed Tony looked. “Uh… what’s going on?” 

“Cheri came to see me today.”

Immediately, Peter felt color drain from his face. “She did?” he asked, and Tony nodded. “She didn’t… mention that she planned on doing that to me.”

“No, I got the feeling that she didn’t want you to know,” Tony agreed. 

Peter frowned. “So then this _ must _ be important, if you’re telling me anyway,” he said, and Tony nodded. 

“It is.” He leaned forward, resting his folded hands on the desktop. “Pete, you know how much Cheri cares about you, right?” Peter nodded at once. “And you care about her?” 

“So much,” Peter said. 

“So then why are you giving her so much stress?” 

Peter blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, when Cheri was in here earlier, I could tell that she hasn’t been sleeping, and she’s been biting her nails. You’re - she’s worried about you, and you not letting her know where you are for hours at a time is _ not _ okay.”

“I can’t exactly answer a phone call from her while I’m in the middle of fighting drug dealers, Mr. Stark,” Peter said after a moment, struggling but failing to keep his voice from sounding harsh. “And I shouldn’t have to hear about problems my girlfriend has with what I do from you.”

“No, you shouldn’t, which is another layer of the problem,” Tony responded, his voice just as hard. “How many times do I have to ask you not to repeat mistakes that I made?” 

“Just a few more, apparently,” Peter said stonily, crossing his arms. 

Tony stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Is this really how you want to handle your relationship?” he finally asked, and Peter cocked an eyebrow. “Keeping things from this girl, who adores you, and only wants to know that you’re safe?” 

“I’m not keeping things from her on purpose,” Peter said. 

“Aren’t you?” 

Peter let out a breath through his nose. “Did you just… call me to get me up here so that you can express your disappointment? Because I’d rather be at home eating dinner with my friends.”

“That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you, definitely,” Tony agreed. “The other part is to tell you that I can help, if you want. I still have a way to track the location of your suit, and if you give me permission to let Cheri know where you are, when she hasn’t heard from you in a while, I will.” 

Peter stared at him. “You can still track my suit?” he asked, plainly, and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“I _ haven’t _ been,” he said. “It’s just in case you go off the grid for more than 24 hours, and I have to make sure that you’re still _ breathing.” _

“That would never happen,” Peter said.

“No? I thought the same thing, and then when it _ did _ happen, I developed a way to track the suits, so that it wouldn’t need to happen again,” Tony said, sharply. “Peter, you can’t -”

“Can’t what?” Peter interrupted, angrily. “Do the thing I’ve been doing for years? I shouldn’t have to change _ everything _ because Cheri doesn’t like the fact that I can’t always answer my fucking phone!” 

“You’re acting like a child,” Tony told him. 

“Am I?” Peter questioned, and he pushed himself up out of the armchair. “Well, fuck, then maybe you _ should _ go back to tracking my suit, because obviously I can’t be trusted to do my job on my own. I _ clearly _ need a babysitter, someone to talk to me about my choices, talk to me about problems that my girlfriend has with me, when she won’t do it herself.” He rolled his eyes, scoffing bitterly. “I’m so glad to know that everyone I care about trusts me!” 

He exited the office, slamming the door shut on his way out. A thin crack in the drywall ran up to the ceiling. Tony stared at the door for a moment after he’d gone, inhaling slowly. He then reached for his cellphone, and sent Cheri a message that she would receive on her laptop. 

> _ Me: I’ll have your phone to you tomorrow. Can you stop by Stark Tower around noon? _
> 
> _ Peanuts: I really hope this doesn’t translate to you working all night in order to get it done. _
> 
> _ Me: Nah, of course not. Will you come? _
> 
> _ Peanuts: Yeah. Noon. Thanks. _
> 
> _ Me: No problem. _

He pushed himself to his feet, taking his glasses off for a moment and rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He hadn’t thought he’d gone wrong with Peter, at any point, but… obviously, he had. Somewhere, sometime, there’d been an instance in which he hadn’t pushed the idea of not ignoring the people who loved you hard enough. Peter was making a huge mistake by not admitting to himself that keeping things away from Cheri was wrong. 

If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose her. Tony knew this, because he’d gone through the same exact thing. He did not want to see it happen to Peter, too. Helping Cheri track his suit whenever she wanted wouldn’t do anything to fix the situation, but if Peter wanted to be a shit about it, then what else was there left for them to do? Cheri was _ worried, _ and clearly, she had every right to be. After that conversation with Peter, Tony realized that _he _ needed to be worried, too. 

He just didn’t know why, or what had changed. Things had been working so well. Where did the break originate from? 

Maybe _ that _ was the mystery he needed to work on solving, while everyone else was focused on a break-in that didn’t concern them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On another note, if you haven't already, go read ['It Gets Worse!'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992753), wherein superheros play Dungeons and Dragons and this whole universe was born because I listened to the McElroys play Dungeons and Dragons that one time two years ago.


	17. A New Month Does Not Mean Everything's Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's gotten worse. Like. Legitimately worse.

**October 1st, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 11:47 AM**

Steve’s eyes opened, and he sat up, yawning into the back of his hand. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but maybe that thirty mile run had worn him out more than he’d thought it did. He wondered, briefly, if he needed to be worried about that, and decided he’d mention it to Bruce, the next time he knew the doctor was free. 

In the bathroom attached to his suite, he could hear the shower running, and he smiled to himself. Bucky must have snuck in while he was asleep. He stood, ready to head for the bathroom himself, but was brought to a halt when FRIDAY spoke up, the light in the bedroom coming on. 

“Captain Rogers?” 

Steve exhaled a breath. “Yeah?” 

“Mrs. Banner has requested your presence, Captain,” FRIDAY told him. “She's asked for you to meet her in Doctor Banner’s lab.”

This was new. “All right, let them know I’ll be right there,” Steve said, and he changed course, heading for the walk-in closet on one wall instead, to change out of his pajama bottoms. 

When he reemerged from the closet, he found Bucky seated on the edge of their bed, a towel around his waist. He raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Was that the robot I heard?” he asked, and Steve nodded, leaning into the mirror on the wall to muss with his hair. He really needed to get it cut. 

“Nat wants me to meet her and Bruce in the lab,” he said. “Maybe she found something, or she’s finally letting us know that she’s giving up.”

“Hm.” Bucky stood, heading into the closet himself. “Let me know how it goes, I guess.”

“What’re you up to?” Steve asked him, leaning around the wall to watch him. 

“Nothing, probably,” Bucky replied with a sigh. “Sam’s after some guys that attacked an armored truck a couple of days ago, so I might help him with that, if he needs me to.” He glanced over his shoulder, made a face when he saw Steve. “Couldn’t you be a bit less obvious?” 

Steve merely grinned in response, shaking his head. “Not at all. Dinner later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky said, and he walked over to Steve, tugging on a shirt. He pressed a brief kiss to his mouth. “Go. You’ve been worrying about this thing for over a month.”

“I know,” Steve replied. “I think that’s why I’m afraid to head down there, to be honest, because this’ll either be the last time we talk about it, or will open the door up to more. I’m not sure which I’d rather have.”

“Guess you’ll know once you hear what Nat has to say,” Bucky said, and Steve nodded. 

“Yeah.”

He exited their suite, and headed downstairs to the lab. The door was already unlocked for him, and he stepped inside, finding Natasha and Bruce sitting together at a worktable, Natasha’s laptop open in front of them. Nat heard Steve’s approach, and waved him over without looking at him. 

“Come see,” she said. 

“Did you find it?” he asked, and Nat finally glanced over her shoulder. She grinned. 

“No,” she said. “I found something better.”

Steve joined them at the worktable, and looked at Natasha’s screen. He frowned a bit when he saw what she had pulled up, and he glanced between the two of them. “What is this? Viastone?” 

“Tiberius Stone, CEO,” Natasha said. “Telecommunications conglomerate. They’re always after a good story to support the fifteen news channels that they have control over, and they’re always sticking their noses where they don’t belong in order to find one.” She moved the mouse across the screen, and pulled up another tab. “I went looking, when I saw that their news outlets were the first to release the story on the Stark Tower break-in, and I found this.”

Steve examined the receipt for an online order for a moment, not entirely sure what he was looking at. It seemed to have been for a drone, one of those flying gadgets that could record video. What he noticed immediately, however, was that the drone itself was black. 

“Is this what we found in the footage we do have?” he asked, and Natasha shrugged her shoulders. 

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Which means… Viastone might have the footage that we’re missing,” Steve concluded. 

“Exactly.”

Steve crossed his arms, leaning back again. “All right,” he said. “We can’t just go rooting through Viastone networks looking for it, though. I don’t want to start a war with them.”

“We might not have to,” Bruce said, speaking for the first time, and both Steve and Natasha looked at him. Bruce lifted his shoulders. “Tony and Tiberius Stone grew up together. Could be that we just have to ask for it.” He winced. “Or get Tony to ask for it, which… he probably won’t want to.”

“He will,” Steve said, and he turned, heading for the door of the lab. 

“No, no, no, hold on,” Bruce said, appearing between him and it. Bruce placed his hands against Steve’s shoulders. “You can’t just march off to wherever Tony is and make demands, all right? He had a pretty serious falling out with Stone awhile back, and he isn’t - they aren’t friends anymore.”

“On top of that, Stark doesn’t want to be involved in this,” Natasha added, stepping up beside Steve. “It’ll be easier on everyone if we didn’t talk to him about it.”

"Okay, well, that isn't really what I was saying..." Bruce began, sparking a silent argument between the two of them. 

Steve sighed. The very last thing he wanted to do was go behind Tony’s back when it came to matters relating to the break-in. However, would it really be going behind his back, if Tony did not want to be involved with it anyway? What concerned Steve was the fact that Natasha would be invading a system that they did not have permission to access. If she was caught snooping around, it could cause a lot of problems for Stark Industries, even though Tony was not part of the equation. 

His shoulders fell. “Fine,” he said to Natasha. “Do what you need to, and try not to let it lead back to Stark or his company in any way.” He looked at them both. “I don’t want him catching backlash from this, if Viastone finds out.”

“Tony will be the first person Stone goes to if they realize anything,” Bruce said, and he crossed his arms. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“Bruce, we’re so close to finding out what happened,” Natasha said, frowning at him. “Why are you just now saying that you don’t want to look into it further?” 

“I’ve _ been _ saying that we need to let it go,” Bruce insisted, and he looked at Steve. “Haven’t I?” 

Steve shook his head. “We can’t back down now, Doc,” he said, and he looked at Natasha. “Figure out what that drone captured. I want to get this guy, and maybe figure out what Viastone was hoping to see through that window.” He moved around Bruce and towards the door. “They might be more involved than we’re giving them credit for.”

Once the door had closed behind him, Bruce turned back to Nat, shaking his head. Natasha looked the slightest bit upset, but only for a moment. “We have to do this, darling.”

“No, we don’t,” Bruce replied, following her back to the workbench, where her laptop still sat. “Nat. You can call this off, say that there’s no point. Whoever did this hasn’t tried anything else, and it’s been over a month. There’s no reason to keep pressing the issue.”

Natasha let out a breath of air, and looked at him. “I’m doing this to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she told him, closing her laptop and picking it up. “If Viastone is involved, like Steve thinks they might be, then wouldn’t it be better if we found out now, and were able to take that information to Tony?” 

“And what would he do with it?” Bruce asked her. 

“Get a goddamn restraining order against Tiberius Stone, for one,” Natasha responded. She looked at him, her brow furrowed. “I know that you hate going behind his back, Bruce, but face it. If we tell him about this, we won’t be able to figure it out, and that’s what we need to do.”

“No,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “We don’t. I’m sorry, Natasha, but if you decide to go through with this, I’m going to have to tell Tony.” She sighed, obviously exasperated, and Bruce spread his hands. “I can’t keep it from him.”

“What about plausible deniability?” Natasha questioned. “If Viastone does find out about us snooping around, and Stone comes after Tony, wouldn’t it be better for him if he had no idea what we were doing?” 

This, Bruce did not respond to, and Natasha leaned forward to kiss him. She rested her forehead against his for a moment. “Think about what’s best for him in the long run,” she urged. “It’ll be easier for everyone if he doesn’t know.”

She moved around him, taking her laptop with her. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’ll be in our suite. Are we still going to make bruschetta?” 

Bruce inhaled, and managed a nod, then listened as the door to the lab slid open, and closed again. He stared down at the top of the workbench for a long moment, a war raging within him. Eventually, however, he cursed, and walked out of the lab as well, heading for the elevator.

**Stark Tower - Broadway & W. 58th St., New York, NY, USA - 2:03 PM**

Tony tilted his head to the side until his neck cracked, and he hissed a little at the shock of pain it sent into his shoulder. He reached up, and rubbed at it for a second, shuffling through some of the papers on his desk until he found the one that he’d been looking for. It was times like these, when he’d rather be getting a massage, that he really missed when Pepper had been CEO.

He blinked a little, and then closed his eyes. Who was he kidding? He just missed Pepper. It had nothing to do with the fact that she’d run his company for him, and done so incredibly well. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, and then pushed away the thoughts that were threatening to overtake his brain. He couldn’t go down that road while at work. The possibilities of anxiety attacks or an eruption of the dam he’d created around his tears were endless, if he decided to think about Pepper now. 

Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on his side for once, because there was a knock on his office door. He opened his eyes, and looked at the door, relieved. “Come in.”

The door opened, revealing Bruce on the other side. Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Not who I was expecting, but… you know what? I’m not unhappy with your presence.” He stood up, walked around the desk to shake Bruce’s hand. “What’re you doing here?” 

“I have something that I need to talk to you about,” Bruce replied, settling down in one of the armchairs at Tony’s indication. Tony sat down in the other one, glad to get out of his desk chair for a second. He really needed to get one with a head rest that had a neck massager. 

“Yeah? What is it?” Tony queried, rubbing at his neck himself, wincing. “Marriage problems? Afraid I won’t be much help with those.”

Bruce shook his head. “Nothing like that,” he said, “although… there might be some, after I tell you what I plan to.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Sounds serious.”

“It is,” Bruce said. “Uh… it has to do with the break-in.”

Tony immediately groaned, turning away. “Bruce, I told you that I didn’t want to hear about that shit anymore,” he sighed. 

“No, I know, but this is important,” Bruce said. “We figured out what that black thing in the footage was.” 

“Bruce, I seriously don’t care,” Tony told him. “Although I’ll need to ask Nat how she managed to get hold of the missing footage, because that would be a very helpful tool to teach to my security dudes.”

“She didn’t find the footage, Tone,” Bruce said, and Tony turned back to him. 

“She didn’t.” Bruce shook his head, and Tony furrowed his brow. “Now I’m confused.” 

Bruce began to respond, but before he could, Tony’s phone began to ring, where it sat on his desk. Tony held up a finger, and leaned over, grabbing it. He smiled at the caller I.D. image, and answered. “Ch’ello?”

He listened to the silence on the other end for a moment, and his smile faded. “Cheri? What’s going on?” he asked, the heavy sensation of worry creeping into his chest and making a home there. 

Cheri inhaled, shakily, and said, “It’s Peter,” she said. “He - he’s missing.”

“Missing?” Tony rested his forehead in his hand. “Okay, Peanuts? He can’t be missing, not if you’re able to track his location.”

“That’s the thing,” Cheri said, and her voice hitched as she continued. “I woke up, and it was like, two in the morning, so obviously I checked to see where he was.” She sniffled. “Uh, the app said that he was somewhere on Staten Island, and at the time, the little thing was moving, so I figured, oh, he’s just tailing someone, right? And I managed to go back to sleep. But when I woke up for class this morning, he still wasn’t home, and that - that’s never happened before. So I checked the app again, and he was still apparently on Staten Island, but the thing _ wasn’t _ moving this time, so I thought that maybe he’d, like, decided to take a nap somewhere or whatever, he’s done that before.” 

She stopped speaking, and Tony could hear the beginnings of sobs through the phone. “Cheri, I need you to tell me the rest of it before you start crying again,” he said. “What happened next?” 

He heard her inhale again, hiccuping a little, and then she said, “I went to class, and I got lunch, and I decided to check my phone again, because there was no way he’d still be sleeping after all that time.” She fell silent again, and Tony waited, his pulse in his ears. 

“The tracker isn’t working anymore,” she whispered. “I tried to load it up, and it just - the app keeps closing, like it needs an update or something, I don’t know.” She released an actual sob, and Tony closed his eyes. “What do we do, Mr. Stark? What if he’s hurt? Or someone took his suit and destroyed it? Or maybe he got rid of the tracker on his own, and we have no idea where he is, now?” 

“It’s going to be fine,” Tony said. “Are you able to drive right now?” She responded with another sob, and Tony forced himself to speak more firmly. “Cheri, can you drive?”

“Yes, I can drive,” Cheri said, managing to fight through her tears, and speak clearly. 

“Good,” Tony said. “I’m going to send you a text with a location to meet me at. Bring Peter’s hairbrush.”

“H-his hair brush?” Cheri asked, obviously confused. “What for?” 

Tony glanced at Bruce, who’d managed to catch on to what was happening, and looked just as worried as Tony currently felt. “I guess you haven’t met the wizards, yet,” he said into the phone. 

“The _ what?” _ Cheri asked, sniffling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop. Well. That was bound to happen.


	18. The Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Strange. He's a convenient plot device.

**October 1st, 2023 - Sanctum Sanctorum - ** **177A Bleeker Street, Greenwich Village, New York, NY, USA - 2:34 PM**

Cheri pulled up to the curb in front of the stone town home that Tony had sent her directions to. She frowned up at it as she climbed from her car, clutching Peter’s hairbrush in one hand. It looked normal, but Tony had mentioned wizards, so she honestly had no idea what to think of the place. She also definitely had no intention of going inside alone, and she looked around, wondering where Tony was, or if he was already there. 

As she was beginning to screw up her courage, and just head to the door, she heard people down the street gasping, and saw them pointing upwards. She followed their attention, and her shoulders fell when she spotted the Iron Man suit flying through the sky. It landed near her, on the sidewalk, and vanished, revealing Tony. Cheri immediately hurried to him, grabbing him around the middle and burying her face in his chest. 

“Hey, we’re going to find him, okay?” Tony said, looking around in case people saw that she was making a scene. She nodded, and stepped back, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. Tony gestured towards the door of the town home with his head. “C’mon, I called ahead.”

“Called ahead to _ who?” _ Cheri asked, following him to the door, cradling the hairbrush. 

“Someone who can help us,” Tony responded, and then he knocked on the door. Cheri blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, they stood in a darkened room, filled with armchairs and different glass cabinets. She spun around, stunned.

“What the hell -?”

“Did you bring the brush?” She turned to the new voice, and gaped at the man who stood behind her. He was dressed in a pretty fancy looking robe, and a regal red cape hung from his shoulders. Cheri stumbled backwards a few steps when the cape suddenly came to life, lifting from the man’s shoulders. It floated towards Tony, and twirled, almost happily, before setting itself across Tony’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, Yeah, good to see you too, Cloakie,” Tony said, and Cheri was astonished to hear something close to affection in his voice. The cloak fluttered it’s collar, and then returned to the other man. 

He glanced from her to Tony, and back again, surprisingly apathetic. “Well?” he prompted

“Uh, yeah, here,” Cheri said, remembering that they were there for a reason, and she held the brush out towards him. The man leaned forward, and pulled a single strand of Peter’s hair out of the bristles, before turning away from her again. Cheri watched in fascination as he pulled the strand between his fingers, elongating it. It turned into a rope of gold, shrank again, then became a glowing circle, a portal, which opened up into an area of New York (she hoped) that she’d never seen before. 

“Well, the young man’s alive, at least,” the man said, looking at Tony. “Although he’s alone, and most assuredly missing his suit.”

“No,” Cheri whimpered, cupping her hand over her mouth. 

“Can you get me to him?” Tony asked, and the man sighed. 

“I won’t be able to bring you back.”

“So I’ll fly him here,” Tony replied, and the Iron Man suit manifested around him once more. “Where is he?” 

“It seems to be an alleyway of some kind, in Hell’s Kitchen,” the man answered. “You’ll be able to find your way back here, if you need to bring him to me for examination.”

“I might,” Tony said. Cheri watched as the man recreated the portal using Peter’s hair. “Do you have any idea what shape he’s in?” 

“Alive is all I can give you,” the man responded. 

Tony stepped through the portal, and then it closed behind him. Cheri reached a hand out towards where it had been, then instantly found herself in a completely different location than the original room. She turned around, and found the man sitting in a chair at a table behind her, drinking from a cup. He looked at her, gesturing to the cup with his free hand. 

“Uh, no thanks,” Cheri said, and she slowly sat down in a different chair, across from him. “Who are you?” 

“Dr. Stephen Strange,” the man answered, and the cup in front of him refilled with a different beverage. Cheri stared, horrified and amazed at the same time. “I am a Master of the Mystic Arts.”

“So… a wizard, then,” Cheri said, and Strange rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What? Not - do you prefer a less colloquial term, like… magician?” 

“I prefer the term Master of the Mystic Arts,” Strange told her, tilting his head as he took her in. “You are Cheryl Schultz, music education major at Empire State University, girlfriend of Peter Parker.”

“Yes,” Cheri said, slowly. “Daughter of Isabel Schultz, granddaughter of Benito and Maria Schultz -” She paused, seeing the look on his face. “Oh. You didn’t need me to tell you that, huh?” 

Strange merely tilted his head in the other direction. “You didn’t mention your father’s name.”

“I don’t know who my father is,” Cheri replied, blinking. 

“Interesting,” Strange mused. 

“You do?” Cheri questioned. Strange pursed his lips for a moment, before looking at the cup he held and taking a drink from it. “You do,” Cheri said again, not making it a question this time. 

“I do,” Strange said, lowering the cup back to the table. “Would you like me to tell you?” 

Cheri gazed at him for a moment, her heart racing. After all those years wondering… the answer to the question that had marred her entire existence sat in front of her, drinking a cup of fucking tea. So why wasn’t she immediately saying yes? Was it because the last thing she wanted to do was think about the mystery that was her father, while Peter was still, as far as she knew, in danger? 

“Ah, they’re back,” Strange said, and Cheri felt a breeze against her face as she was returned to that first room. Tony stood nearby, holding a very pale Peter in his arms. Peter was naked aside from a thin t-shirt and his boxer shorts, meaning that his suit had indeed been taken, which was an issue that would need to be examined further, once Peter was taken care of. 

“Peter,” Cheri whispered, and she hurried forward, leaning up in order to see his face. His eyes were closed, but he had no visible injuries, which gave her a small glimmer of hope. She glanced up at Tony, who’d deformed the suit’s helmet. He met her eyes. “Is he okay?” she asked, softly. 

“Let me look at him,” Strange said, and an examination table appeared from nowhere, which Tony gently placed Peter on top of. Strange went to work immediately, waving his hands across his chest, picking up his different limbs and moving them at their joints, making sure nothing was broken. 

After several minutes, he stepped away again. “He’s fine,” he said, and Cheri closed her eyes in relief. “Exhausted, clearly, and a bit dehydrated, but, at least superficially, he’s fine. We’ll get some fluids into him, and he should wake up within the hour.”

Cheri moved towards the end of the table where Peter’s head rested, and Tony tugged on Strange’s arm, pulling him away a few steps. “What was the boy doing?” Strange asked, and Tony shook his head. 

“I have no idea. He was in an alley, like you said, but there were no signs of a struggle or anything like that. It kind of looked like the kid fell asleep, and then the suit was pulled off of him while he was sleeping.” He glanced towards where Cheri was running her fingers through Peter’s curls, speaking softly to him. “He wouldn’t have let that happen, though.”

“No,” Strange agreed, finally looking troubled. “I suppose I could see if there’s any sort of drug in his system.”

“Peter isn’t affected by drugs.”

“The way normal people are?” Tony did not respond. “If a person had given him a large amount, it could have knocked him out.” Strange continued to gaze at him. “Do you know if anyone was after his suit?” 

“I’m sure plenty of people wanted his suit, Strange,” Tony snapped. Strange lifted an eyebrow, impassive, and Tony closed his eyes, bowing his head. “This is my fault.”

“How?”

“I stopped paying attention to him, to what he was doing,” Tony responded. “I told him that I would, because I trusted him, believed that he would be all right on his own.” He exhaled, lifting his head again. “Apparently, I was wrong. If I’d been keeping an eye on him, I might know who took it.” 

Strange studied him for a moment longer, before turning away. He gestured towards Peter. “Let me set him up with an IV,” he said. Tony nodded, numbly, and watched Strange return to the table. Within a few seconds, Peter had an IV taped into his arm, a bag of liquid hanging near his head. 

“Thank you,” Cheri said, looking at Strange, “Doctor Strange.”

“Of course, Ms. Schultz,” he replied, and he walked back over to where Tony still stood, the suit now entirely deformed and stored away into the arc reactor on his chest. “We should talk more about what might have happened to the boy,” he said. 

“Yeah, all right,” Tony murmured, and he followed Stephen out of the room, keeping his eyes on Peter until he could no longer see him. 

Alone in the room with him, Cheri took Peter’s hand, holding it gently between both of hers. She gazed down at him, a crease between her brow, and shook her head. “I can’t believe you,” she murmured, softly. “You idiot.”

Peter’s hand shifted in her own, and then she felt it close around hers. A few tears welled up in Cheri’s eyes, and she closed them, quickly, sniffling. She reached for her phone to call Ned. The line only rang twice before he picked up, out of breath.

“Did you find him?”

“We did,” Cheri replied, glancing around the room. “We’re at some kind of… I don’t know, magic house, I guess. A wizard helped us find him.”

“A wizard?” Ned repeated, and then he inhaled, in comprehension. “Oh, you mean Dr. Strange! Yeah, Peter said he’s really cool.”

“I mean, he can do magic, so yeah, he’s cool,” Cheri replied, and she heard Ned chuckle. She looked back down at Peter, her own smile falling. “Ned, he lost the suit.”

Ned did not respond for a moment, and Cheri tightened her grip on her phone. “Okay,” Ned finally said. “That’s fine. It’s completely… fine. Uh, is Mr. Stark pissed?” 

“I don’t - no?” Cheri winced. “Not yet, anyway. He probably will be, when Peter’s awake and can talk to him.” She turned her eyes upwards, following the odd pattern on the ceiling with her eyes. “I should probably ask him not to be, huh?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Ned agreed. “But Peter’s okay?” 

“He’ll be fine,” Cheri replied. “He’s dehydrated, Dr. Strange said, but other than that, he’s okay.” She gave Peter’s hand a small squeeze. “I’m trying not to be angry at him myself.” 

“I’m sure he got cornered, and there was nothing he could do,” Ned said with a sigh. “Call me again later, when he wakes up and you hear whatever he remembers?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Cheri replied. “Uh, did - has Harry noticed anything?” 

“No,” Ned said, and he sounded relieved. Cheri was, too. “At least, he hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”

“Okay, good,” Cheri said. “I’ll call. Bye.”

“Bye, Cheri,” Ned responded, and Cheri lowered her phone, pushing it back into her pocket, and returning her gaze to Peter’s face. Already, she could see some of his color returning, and she allowed her shoulders to relax. He’d be okay. They had bigger things to worry about, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not ridiculous to assume that Peter uses a hairbrush, right? He's got hair, and like, needs to be able to brush it. Right?   
I don't know how male hair grooming works.


	19. The Fourth Email

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not too suspicious anymore, considering how obvious it all is at this point, but.

_ To: _ _ hto.31@osmail.com _ _   
_ _ From: _ _ nvo.14@osmail.com _

_ Subject: Suit _

_ H - _

_ We got it. I’m very proud of you, my boy. We’ll begin tests on the technology as soon as possible. _

_ Keep me updated on S-M’s mental status; we had to hit him with a large dosage of the liquid in order to get him down completely, and I’ll be interested to know the after effects. _

_ \- D _


	20. Peter's Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has something to say about someone unexpected. Cheri can't believe it.

**October 1st, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 3:45 PM**

Cheri held the door of the apartment open for Peter, who trudged inside, his head hanging. She let the door fall closed behind both of them, locking the deadbolt, and followed him into the bedroom. She caught sight of Ned poking his head out of his own room, and she shook hers, indicating that he needed to leave them alone for now. Ned shot her an ‘okay’ sign, and disappeared back into his room. 

Cheri stepped into hers and Peter’s, and closed that door as well, before turning to look at him. He’d fallen sideways onto their bed, his back to her, facing the wall. Cheri crossed her arms. “Peter,” she said, speaking firmly.

“What?” he grumbled. 

“Don’t,” she said immediately, annoyed by his tone. “You’re the one who went missing, so you have no right to be angry with me. It isn’t my fault that you lost your suit.”

“No, you’re right,” Peter said. He sat up again, ran his hand through his hair. “It’s _ my _ fault I lost my suit, which means it should be _ my _ job to get it back.”

Cheri shook her head at once. “You heard what Mr. Stark said,” she told him. “You’re staying off the streets until he can get a location on the thing. We don’t know if they’ll come after you next.”

“They won’t need to,” Peter mumbled, still not looking at her. “The suit does everything for me, basically, aside from the ‘sticking to walls’ thing.”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Cheri said. “You need to stop throwing yourself a pity party, and look at me.” Peter did not move. Cheri lowered her arms, and stalked across the room to the bed. She placed her hands down on the edge of it, and leaned across it toward him. _ “Talk _ to me, Peter,” she insisted. “Please.”

“Why should I?” he asked, dryly. “Aren’t you gonna report everything I say to Mr. Stark?” 

Cheri blinked, horrified. She pushed herself back off of the bed, gaping at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, her voice barely more than a whisper. “What - you’ve been so _ nasty, _ recently, and I cannot think of a single reason why.” 

Peter’s shoulders tensed. “I’m the nasty one?” he queried, bitterly. “What about you?” 

“What _ about _ me?” Cheri asked. 

“You’re the one who went to Mr. Stark, crying about stuff that you should have talked to _ me _ about,” Peter said. “What’s the point of being in a relationship if you can’t even fucking talk to one another?” 

“I _ tried _ talking to you about it, and you almost bit my head off!” Cheri exclaimed. “Don’t you remember that happening?” 

Peter did not respond, but Cheri had seen his shoulders tense further. She took another step backwards. “You… you _ don’t,” _she murmured. “You don’t remember that conversation.” 

“I don’t - when was it?” Peter asked, his head finally turning slightly, so that he could speak over his shoulder to her. His voice had gone soft. 

“The day after you helped bring down Fisk,” Cheri told him. “I tried talking to you about it, during breakfast before we both left, and you snapped at me, said that there was nothing for me to “fucking” worry about.” She stared at him. “You really don’t remember?”

“N-no,” Peter whispered, and he bowed his head, hanging it between his hands. “What the hell is going on with me?” he hissed to himself, trying to rub the pain out of his head. 

_ Headache. I don’t get _ headaches. _ There really is something wrong. _

Peter shifted, turning a little, so that he could look at her. Cheri gazed at him, examining his shaking hands, and his bloodshot eyes. He looked like a heroin addict five hours into remission. 

“Cheri,” he started, and he reached a hand out to her. It shook violently, and he quickly pulled it back towards himself, blinking at it in shock. His eyes found hers, and she saw them go bright with tears. “There’s something wrong with me.” 

“It’s okay,” she said, speaking softly, and she took a few steps back towards the bed. “It’s all right, Pete. We’re going to figure out what’s going on, I promise.” 

_ Pete. She means it. _

Peter gave a jerky nod of his head, and he carefully lowered himself into a lying position, eyes darting across her face. Cheri reached out a hand, and passed it through his hair. His eyes fell shut, and he breathed out shakily. 

“Do you want some water?” she asked, and he nodded against her fingers. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” 

Cheri quickly hurried out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She then sank into a squat, hanging her head between her hands, and just breathed for a moment, trying to get a rein on all of the emotions and thoughts swirling around inside of her. Peter couldn’t actually be on drugs; she doubted that they’d have any effect on him. But if it wasn’t drugs, what else could it be, and how had it gotten into his system? 

She needed to call Tony, tell him that Peter needed to be examined by Dr. Banner. 

She stood up, and walked slowly towards the kitchen, pulling out her phone. Her hand was surprisingly steady, and she quickly dialed Tony’s number, bringing the phone to her ear as she retrieved a cup from a cupboard to fill with water for Peter. 

“Cheri?” Tony said on the second ring. “You got home okay?” 

“Yeah,” Cheri replied. “But… I think he’s on drugs.” 

“Drugs?” 

“He has memory loss, his hands are shaking, and his mood swings are something else, Mr. Stark,” Cheri told him. “I think Dr. Banner needs to take a look at him, figure out if there’s something happening internally, that we can’t see.” 

“Strange looked him over, said he was fine,” Tony reminder her, and Cheri shook her head. 

“He’s forgotten a whole conversation, Mr. Stark,” she said. “He’s _ been _ forgetting things. There has to be something wrong, something Dr. Strange didn’t look for. Or couldn’t find.” 

Tony did not respond for a moment, and Cheri pulled the freezer open, dropping a couple of cubes of ice into the cup with the water. She shifted her phone to her other ear, waiting. 

“Okay,” Tony said after a moment. “Okay, I’ll - we should get him to the Compound, keep him here while Bruce does tests. Do you think you can manage that?” 

“Yeah,” Cheri said. “I’ll get Ned to help me.” 

“All right.” Tony exhaled. “We’re going to figure it out, Cheri, okay? I know what you mean when you say he’s having mood swings, and that worried me, too, so… we’ll figure it out, and get him back to normal. I promise.” 

Cheri nodded, remembered that Tony couldn’t see her, and said, “Okay. I’ll bring him as soon as I can get him back into the car.” 

“We’ll be waiting,” Tony replied. 

Cheri lowered the phone, sliding it back into her pocket. She returned to the bedroom, opening the door. Peter’s eyes opened at her entrance, and he sat up, reaching for the cup. His hand shook so viciously that some water sloshed out over the side. 

Peter cursed, angrily, and wiped at the wet spot on the comforter with his free hand. 

“Pete, it’s okay,” Cheri said, and his eyes turned up to hers. Cheri blinked at the fire in them, but did not shy away. “It’s just water.” 

“Just water,” Peter mocked under his breath, and took a drink. Cheri started at him, silently reminding herself that this couldn’t be Peter talking. 

As though to prove it, his expression softened as he took another drink. He lowered the cup, gazing up at her, his eyes once more wet with tears, the fire completely burned out. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, and leaned forward until his forehead rested against her stomach, his shoulders shaking as he cried. 

“Pete,” Cheri murmured, resting a hand on the back of his head. “You need Dr. Banner to examine you. Yeah?” Peter nodded a few times, sniffling. “They want us to go to the Compound. Do you think you could let me take you there?” 

Peter shifted. “Not… not by yourself,” he said, quietly. 

“We can bring Ned?” 

“No!” Cheri blinked as Peter jerked his head upright, meeting her eyes again. His own had gone wide, and she frowned when she saw the panic in them. “Not Ned. Please.” 

“Ned’s our only choice, Pete,” Cheri said, carefully. “It’s him, or I take you alone.” 

“Then alone!” Peter exclaimed. He shook his head roughly, the water cup toppling from his hands as he reached up to hold onto it. “Not Ned. Not Ned.” 

“Peter, hey, it’s okay,” Cheri said, picking up the cup. She set it down on the bedside table, and then reached for him. Peter fell into her willingly enough, chanting “Not Ned” under his breath, and Cheri studied the wall, not having any idea as to what was going on. Had something happened between Ned and Peter, or was he making it up? 

Either way, she supposed she’d need to keep Ned away from Peter, at least until they could figure out what was wrong with him. 

“Pete,” she began, and he lifted his head to look at her. She brushed back his hair, forcing a smile. “You’re going to be okay, I promise. But we should go to the Compound.” 

Peter nodded, slowly. One of his hands reached up, and he brushed his fingertips against her cheek. Cheri gazed at him, watching as Peter’s entire form seemed to relax. 

“The Compound,” he breathed, and Cheri nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

“Good,” Cheri said, relieved. She moved off of the bed, and let Peter hold onto her shoulder as he stood as well. He seemed steady enough on his feet, and she noticed his hands weren’t shaking as bad. Maybe whatever was wrong with him was starting to wear off, a bit. 

Cheri led him out of the bedroom and towards the front door. She gently pushed him out of the apartment ahead of her, pausing to glance over her shoulder when she felt eyes on her back. Ned stood in the archway of the hall, concern written all over his face. Cheri merely shook her head at him, before grabbing her keys off the rack near the door, and joining Peter outside the apartment. 

He looked at her, blinking wearily, and followed her down the stairs to the exit of the building. “We’re… going somewhere,” he said, carefully, studying her car as she unlocked it. 

Cheri pulled open the passenger door, thought better of it, and opened the backdoor instead. “Lay down,” she told him. 

Peter submissively enough climbed into the back seat, laying across it on his back. Cheri shut the door, and walked around her car to get in behind the steering wheel. When she looked back, she found Peter staring up at the roof, eyes dull. 

“We’re going somewhere,” he said again. “Cheri?” 

“Yeah,” she said, pulling away from the curb. “We’re hopefully going to make you better.” 

“Oh,” Peter murmured. She saw his hands brush against his torso, tugging at the neck of the clean t-shirt she’d gotten him into. “Where’s my suit?”

“Someone took it from you,” Cheri reminded him. “Remember?” 

Peter blinked a few times, and then his eyes fell shut, and stayed that way. Cheri breathed outwards in relief, and prayed that he’d stay asleep until they reached the Compound. Listening to him talk the way he was scared the hell out of her. She sincerely hoped that Dr. Banner would be able to help him, because she didn’t know what they would do, otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I posted three chapters in a single day, so?


	21. Dr. Banner's On The Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank God that Bruce is, like, a licensed doctor. Can you imagine if they'd taken Peter to a real hospital? Horrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Day After Thanksgiving. Grateful.

**October 1st, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 6:18 PM**

Bruce stepped out of Peter’s private suite in the Compound, exhaling a breath. He’d talked to the boy, taken some of his blood to test for any sign of narcotics. It seemed what Cheri had told him was true, however. Peter was experiencing severe memory loss, and his mood swings were enough to make _ Bruce _ sympathetic. Bruce had once been the _ king _ of mood swings. 

Hopefully, the blood test came back with something useful, and they’d be able to eradicate whatever was in his system. Until then, Peter would need to stay at the Compound; it was safest for everyone, especially after Bruce had heard what Peter had to say, in reference to his blatant refusal to bring Ned to the Compound in order to help. 

_ “This is all his fault.” _

The sentence wasn’t the most reassuring thing to hear from Peter about his best friend, especially seeing how much Peter was struggling. If Ned really did have some sort of involvement in whatever was wrong with Peter, well… 

Bruce did not necessarily want to think about it. 

He found Cheri sitting with Tony in the living room. She looked exhausted, and her pallor concerned him. Bruce wondered briefly if he needed to check on her as well, from a medical perspective. 

She stood up, when she noticed him. “Is he okay?” she asked, dark brown eyes shadowed by the marks of multiple sleepless nights in a row. She seemed to have lost weight, too. 

Bruce glanced past her at Tony, who had stood as well, hands in his pockets. They shared a silent conversation before Bruce looked back at Cheri, gently taking her arm in his, and guiding her to sit back down. 

“Everything you mentioned is still happening,” Bruce began. “The memory loss, mood swings. He seems to be sensitive to light, as well, but that could just be his overactive senses working against him. I have no doubt that his hearing and his sense of smell are reacting similarly.” He glanced down at the floor. “I took some of his blood, to test for drugs, and I need to wait for him to get a bit more fluid in his system before I can ask for a urine sample. I’d like to have both, to know that if there _ are _ drugs in his system, they’re being flushed out naturally.”

“And what if there isn’t any?” Cheri asked. Bruce looked up again, found her staring at him, brow furrowed. “I can’t believe that anything he might have been given by the people who took his suit would still be in his system by now.” 

“Peter doesn’t remember what happened,” Tony reminded her, speaking gently. “He could have been attacked early this morning, and not even eight hours have passed since.”

“But Peter is _ Peter,” _ Cheri said. She looked at Bruce again. “His body works in overtime. He can’t get drunk, I don’t think he can be drugged easily, either, and I _ really _ don’t think that whatever drug was used on him would have this long lasting of an effect.”

Bruce picked at a loose thread on one of the couch cushions. “Unless he’s been ingesting it over a long period of time,” he murmured. 

Silence fell. He could feel Cheri gaping at him, disbelief on her face. When he finally looked up, he saw Tony looked more disgruntled than anything. 

“As in someone has been drugging him for months,” he clarified.

Bruce nodded. “Yes.”

“It can’t be Ned,” Cheri said immediately, throwing up her hands. “I - I don’t care what Peter said, Ned wouldn’t _ do _ something like that.”

“I’m sure you think that about everyone who could have been the one to drug him,” Tony said, sighing and crossing his arms. 

“Cheri, how long has Peter been acting different?” Bruce queried. 

Cheri considered the question, her eyes on the floor. “I don’t - maybe a month,” she finally said. “I - the mood swings didn’t start getting really bad until later on, but I noticed he was forgetting things before then. It wasn’t anything important, just, like, he’d forgotten to take out the garbage even though it was his turn to, and I’d ask him to stop and grab something from the store, but he wouldn’t.” She cursed to herself, shaking her head. “I thought it was just because of how busy he’s been with the crime fighting and work. I’m so stupid.”

“No, I’m the stupid one,” Tony murmured. “I should have noticed that there was something wrong when I talked to him last week, and he basically bit my head off.” He ran his hand through his hair. “He’s never acted like that before, not towards me.”

Cheri glanced up at him. “He has been… a little bitter, whenever you come up in conversation, recently,” she admitted, and Tony turned towards her, frowning. She lifted her shoulders. “It’s like he’s… I don’t know, resentful towards you, or something, which I know Peter would never be.”

“So he hasn’t been acting like himself,” Bruce said. 

Cheri shook her head. “It isn’t - he’ll be himself, for a few minutes, and then it’s like I say something that… I don’t know, triggers him, I guess.” Her shoulders fell. “I don’t know how we can help him with something like that.”

Bruce’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes found Tony’s. His friend looked just as concerned as he felt. “Trigger words?” Bruce said, quietly, and Tony blew out a breath of air, standing up and walking away a few steps. “It can’t be…?”

“No,” Tony said at once. “They wouldn’t have any idea about Peter being Spider-Man.” He tapped at his watch, frowning. “But it could be someone with similar intentions, who has someone on the inside getting them information.” Tony looked at Cheri. “You’re absolutely positive it has nothing to do with Ned.”

“Yes,” Cheri said, her tone serious. 

“What about the other one? Harry?” 

“Harry’s barely been home since this whole mess started,” Cheri told him. Tony looked again at Bruce, who raised his shoulders. Tony moved away from them completely, heading out of the living room, already speaking to FRIDAY as he went. 

Once he was out of sight, Bruce turned back to Cheri, who looked more confused now than anything. “What’s happening?” she asked him. “Do we know something?” 

“Something that's... similar to what’s going on with Peter happened with Bucky, a while back,” Bruce explained. “He was hijacked by a group called HYDRA, and they instilled in his brain a series of words that would send him on a murder spree. That obviously isn’t what’s happening with Peter, but it’s close enough to raise some red flags. Tony’s probably going to try to track down any information he can get on associates of HYDRA, since their group imploded years ago.”

“That’s what you think, anyway,” Cheri said, and Bruce sighed. 

“To be honest, I was sort of left out of the loop on that whole mess,” he said. “I was in space, for a lot of important Avengers stuff.”

“You went to space?” Cheri asked, blinking. 

“I mean, the big green guy did,” Bruce replied. “I was the one who came back, though.” He glanced at his own watch, and stood. “I should go see about the blood test.” Cheri nodded, and Bruce stood. He looked at her. “Are you going to be all right?”

Cheri merely offered him a dull look in response, and Bruce nodded. “Right. I wouldn’t suggest going in to see him, but… I don’t know. If you know some of those triggers by this point, it might be all right, since you can avoid them.”

“Okay,” Cheri agreed. “Thanks, Doc.”

She watched him leave the living room, heading in a different direction than Tony had. She folded her hands in her lap, then, and thought it over. She knew that bringing Tony up was a bad choice, and apparently, so was mentioning Ned. She wondered why whoever had done this to him hadn’t set her up as a bad guy in Peter’s eyes as well. 

Before heading towards Peter’s suite, however, Cheri pulled out her phone, and dialed a number that she’d been told was for ‘emergencies only’. She didn’t know about the person that had given it to her, but from where she stood, this definitely seemed like an emergency. 

“Schultz,” the deep voice that answered the call said, sounding a little annoyed. “Emergencies only.”

“I think this qualifies,” Cheri retorted. “Someone took Peter’s suit, and we think they’ve been drugging him for a while now, messing with his head.”

For a moment, there was silence on the other end, until Cheri heard Fury sigh, heavily. “In what capacity has his head been “messed with”?” he asked. 

“He’s suffering from memory loss, he’s having really severe mood swings, which I think are triggered by certain words or phrases, or just like, the thought of certain things,” Cheri told him. “One of those things being Tony Stark.”

“And?”

“And his best friend,” Cheri said. “And generally things that shouldn’t make him mad are pissing him the fuck off, which I think means there’s something seriously wrong.” She scowled, even though she knew that Fury couldn’t see her. “Does this sound like an emergency yet, Fury?”

“It’s concerning,” he said after a moment. “What steps have you taken?” 

Cheri exhaled, reining her emotions back in. “I brought him to the Compound so that Dr. Banner can observe him. He took some of his blood to do a drug test, so really all we’re doing right now is waiting.” She glanced in the direction that Tony had walked off. “I’m pretty sure Mr. Stark is going after information related to a group called HYDRA, since something like this happened to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Yes, I recall,” Fury replied. “Right. For now, see where this progresses. The issue may be resolved without our involvement. If there hasn’t been a change in a week, call me again, and I’ll see what I can do.” He paused, and then said, “Schultz, I know that Parker is very important to you. If this does end up leading to HYDRA in any way, I may have to ask you to abandon personal feelings in order to operate in your strongest capacity.”

Cheri made a face. “In case you forgot, I’m not an active agent,” she said, coolly. “I don’t have to operate in any capacity for you.” 

“Even if it means that refusing to do so will put him further at risk?” Fury asked. 

“I can take care of him from where I am,” Cheri said. 

“Clearly, you cannot.”

_ All right, that struck a chord. _ Cheri’s grip on her phone tightened. “I don’t even know why I called you,” she said, angrily. “Just so that you can make me feel bad?” 

“I asked you to keep me informed,” Fury said. “That’s what you’re doing. I’d ask that you continue to do so as you learn more about his condition.”

“We’ll see,” Cheri muttered, and she lowered her phone, ending the call. 

“Cheri.” Her shoulders tensed, and she turned to face Tony, who stood near the edge of the living room. “Who was that?” he asked. 

Cheri inhaled. “Nick Fury,” she responded. 

“Why were you talking to Nick Fury?” Tony queried, his tone carefully devoid of emotion. 

“Because I… kind of work for him,” Cheri said, meeting his gaze. 

Tony blinked at her. “Since _ when?” _

“Since… a few months after I met Peter,” Cheri said, sliding her phone away. “My grandfather was an agent of SHIELD, and my mom worked for them in their research branch for a while.” She crossed her arms defensively. “With my family's history with SHIELD, and my _abuelo_ making sure that I was properly trained to serve as an agent myself, It was always a given that someone from SHIELD might eventually want something from me. I never really knew what that would be, until I became friends with Spider-Man.” 

“Fury wanted you to keep an eye on him,” Tony determined, and Cheri nodded. “Is that all this is, then?”

“You’re honestly asking me that?” Cheri queried, the hurt she already felt after her conversation with Fury only growing. “I love Peter, more than I can say. My relationship with him has _ nothing _to do with instructions I've been given to monitor him.”

Tony gazed at her for a moment, before he sighed, his shoulders falling. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I - I shouldn’t have… that wasn’t fair of me. I know how much you care about Peter.” He glanced up at her again. “It’s just… with you asking to be able to track his suit, and calling Fury at the first sign of trouble -”

“I thought he might be willing to help us figure out who did this,” Cheri interrupted, “but I guess I was wrong. He’s not getting involved.” She gestured towards him. “What’re you hoping to find?”

“We have people out looking for the suit,” Tony replied. “I also asked Nat to do a background check on Harry Osborn’s family.” 

Cheri frowned. “No, Harry -”

“Everyone close to Peter that I don’t know personally is a suspect right now,” Tony said. “Since you’re adamant that Ned isn’t involved, that leaves Harry as the most likely person to have done this, or to be the one tangled up with the people who did.” 

Cheri lowered her gaze. “I’ve known Harry longer than I’ve known Peter and Ned,” she murmured. “I don’t think he was the one to do this, either, but… he is the more likely out of the two of them, I guess.” She winced, hating that she was having to accuse her best friend. "Fuck." 

“Cheri?” 

She turned at the familiar voice, and her shoulders fell when she spotted Peter standing warily in the shadowy hall leading towards his suite. “Pete,” she said gently, moving towards him. “What’re you doing out here? You should be resting.”

“I - Dr. Banner said he needed me to do a urine test,” Peter replied, his voice soft. “I was looking for him.” 

“He went to check on your blood test,” Cheri explained, and Peter nodded. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Fuzzy,” he said, closing his eyes and breathing inwards. “I - everything’s like, super bright right now, but it isn’t as bad as it was.” 

“That’s good,” Cheri said. “Are you, uh…” She trailed off, and gestured back towards Tony with her head. “You’re okay?” 

Peter’s eyes had opened, and found Tony. He did not seem agitated, which Cheri supposed was a plus, although when he spoke, his tone was flat: “I’m fine.”

Cheri glanced back at Tony, who turned away, moving out of sight. She looked back at Peter, forcing a smile. “Let’s go back to your room,” she suggested. “Do you want something to eat or some water?” 

“Water might be good,” Peter said. 

“All right. I’ll be right there.”

He nodded, and wandered back down the hall towards his suite. Cheri headed towards the kitchen instead, pulling open the fridge and retrieving two water bottles from inside it. When she turned around, she found Tony standing behind the counter. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s - I wish there was something I could do.”

“It’s fine,” Tony replied, his voice low. “I’m just glad he trusts _ you, _ still. Whoever did this obviously had some sort of sympathy for him, or else they would have made him hate everyone who was close to him.” 

Cheri bit her lip. “That doesn’t do much for Harry’s case, huh?” she asked, and Tony shook his head. “Right.” She lifted the water bottles. “I should get these to him.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Uh… just, I guess, don’t - I wish we could learn more, but we don’t know what might trigger him." He paused for a moment, and then sighed. "Just sit with him, make sure he’s okay. He might be coming down, now, so -”

“I’ve got it,” Cheri told him. “He’ll be okay. I’ll make sure he is. Could you let Dr. Banner know that he might be able to give a urine sample?”

“Sure,” Tony said with a nod. “I’ll go find him right now.”

Cheri watched him go, and then she exited the kitchen, heading for Peter’s suite. She walked into the darkened room, and immediately reached for the lights, but then remembered what Bruce had said, about Peter’s sensitivity to light, and lowered her hand. 

Peter sat on the bed, his head hanging between his hands. 

“Hey,” she murmured, and she walked towards him, holding out one of the bottles. “Here you go.”

He took it with a tiny nod, and opened it, taking a drink. Cheri did her best not to stare, and instead situated herself in the chair that was pushed into his desk, setting the other water bottle down. She then crossed her arms, and closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling very tired. 

“Cher.” Her eyes opened again, and she looked at Peter. He blinked at her. “Everything’s going to be okay.” 

Cheri managed a smile. Of course he’d say that, wanting to be the one to reassure her. That was Peter’s thing, always doing what he could to make sure that she felt calm, safe. She was glad to know he was currently in the mindset to where he could do that. 

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re right. We’re going to make it okay.”

Eventually, Dr. Banner arrived, and Peter passed over the urine sample he went into the bathroom to collect. Bruce glanced at Cheri while Peter was in the bathroom, concerned, and Cheri merely shook her head. _ It’s all right. He’s fine, for now. _

When Dr. Banner had left again, saying that he’d come find them as soon as he had any results, Cheri looked at Peter. He’d retreated once again to the bed, and had finished off the first water bottle. This helped Cheri relax, knowing that he was willing to drink water, take care of himself. She offered the other bottle to him, and he accepted it without argument. 

“Treble,” he began after a while, and she looked up from her phone, which she’d been busy crafting an email to her professors on, telling them that her class attendance might be a bit sporadic over the next few class periods due to a personal matter.

“What’s up? You need something?” 

Peter inhaled, nodded. “You.”

Cheri’s heart ached for him. She set down her phone, and stood up from the desk chair, moving carefully towards the bed. Peter had put the water bottle down on the bedside table. He looked very small, sitting in the center of the large mattress, and when he held out a hand towards her, Cheri couldn’t resist putting her own into it. 

Peter tugged her towards him, Cheri kicking off her shoes on the way. Without having to talk about it, they situated themselves against the pillows in a way that they often did while in bed at the apartment. However, the roles ended up reversed; rather than Cheri resting her head against Peter’s chest, she found herself being the one to cradle him. He felt fragile in her arms, and she frowned to herself, wondering if he’d lost weight. 

She heard Peter sniffle, and she closed her eyes, pressing her face into the top of his head for a moment. 

“Hey,” she whispered. “It's okay. I’m right here.”

“I’m just - I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve been so awful, lately, and I - you shouldn’t even want to be around me.”

“Pete,” Cheri began, interrupting him. “It’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Peter lifted his head, met her eyes. His own were clear, for the first time in hours, and he actually smiled a little. “I love you,” he said. 

“I know,” Cheri said, and she pressed a kiss against his forehead. “I love you, too.” She hesitated for a moment. “Talk to me. What’re you thinking?” 

Peter did not respond at first, and she almost regretted even asking. Finally, however, he said, “I - I have to apologize to a lot of people.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Cheri agreed. “But that can wait, I think, until you’re feeling better.”

“Is Mr. Stark mad?” Peter asked, softly. 

“No,” Cheri assured, tucking his head beneath her chin and closing her eyes in relief. Thank God he hadn’t gotten angry. “No, he knows this isn’t your fault. He’s doing everything he can to figure out who did this to you.”

“Ned knows,” Peter whispered, and Cheri’s eyes opened. 

“What?”

He nodded against her neck. “He knows. Ask him.”

“How does he know?” Cheri asked. Peter did not reply. “Pete?” 

She listened to his breathing for a moment, and forced herself to relax when she realized that he had fallen asleep. She eyed her phone where it sat on the desk, and cursed silently. She needed to get in touch with Ned, ask him what the hell Peter was talking about. The last thing she wanted to do was give the information to Tony, because no matter what Peter said, she refused to believe that Ned had any part in what was going on. 

It just… it couldn’t be possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely no one didn't see THAT coming.


	22. Tony Can't Believe It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really. He can't.

**October 1st, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 6:45 PM**

Tony pursed his lips as he listened again to the security recording that had come out of Peter’s suite maybe fifteen minutes before. Cheri had called May during the clip he was focused on, to tell her about what was going on with Peter. She left out anything that might have worried her too much, and assured Peter’s aunt that it was being dealt with. It was the end of the conversation between Cheri and Peter that Tony was interested in, however. He studied the floor between his feet, thinking it over. 

_ “Ned knows.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “He knows. Ask him.” _

_ “How does he know?” _ A pause. _ “Pete?” _

Tony closed his eyes, leaned back in the chair he sat in behind his desk in his office at the Compound. He didn’t know what to make of it. The smart thing to do, he supposed, would be to get in contact with Ned, ask him about it. But did he really want to go charging in without understanding more about what Peter had meant? There could be factors that he didn’t know about, factors that would completely alter his course of questioning if he were to bring Ned into it. 

On top of all that, he really _ didn’t _ believe Ned was responsible. Cheri had been adamant herself that Ned knew nothing, and Tony had silently agreed with her. He knew it was his job to be suspicious of everyone around Peter, but… he knew Ned. He knew Ned _ well, _ if he was being honest. Ned _ worked _ for him. Ned’s _ mother _ worked for him. Tony knew, with absolute certainty, that Ned wasn’t involved. He’d learned to better read people over the last fifteen years, had been forced to. 

But that did not necessarily mean Ned was completely oblivious to whatever was going on with Peter. 

Tony reached for his phone, dialed Ned’s number. He picked up on the second ring, sounding confused. “Mr. Stark?” 

“Hey,” Tony said. “Are you at home?” 

“Yeah, I mean -” Ned cut himself off, took a second. “I am. Do you need something?” 

“What do you know about what’s going on with Peter?” Tony asked, cutting right to the chase. He didn’t have time to waltz around the big question that he needed an answer to, fast. 

Ned was silent for a moment, obviously both surprised by the question, and unsure of how to respond to it. “I don’t… know much,” he finally said. “Aside from what Cheri’s told me. And from what I’ve been noticing myself.”

“Including what?” Tony questioned, leaning forward. 

“Just that he hasn’t been himself, recently,” Ned admitted. “I’ve been kind of worried about him, for the last week or so, I guess. I even looked into some different drugs that he might have been taking, even though when I asked him about it, he said that normal drugs don’t work on him.”

Tony knew that already. He’d been the one Peter had talked to about his “personal experiments.” “And did you find anything?” 

“Just, like, the names of some drugs with side effects that sort of reflected what’s been going on with him,” Ned sighed. “And it really doesn’t matter, anyway. Peter said he wasn’t on drugs.”

“Maybe not by personal choice,” Tony said, quietly. 

Ned did not respond at first. When he did, his own tone had lowered. “You think he’s _ been _ drugged?”

“We think he’s been having _ something _ put in his system, for a while, now,” Tony responded. “When did you notice him starting to act strange?”

“I guess… I mean, did Cheri tell you about him forgetting stuff?” Ned asked. 

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I uh… he’s been forgetting stupid stuff for about a month, I’d guess,” Ned said. “He started having mood swings maybe two weeks ago. At least, they started getting bad enough to the point where I couldn’t pretend they weren’t happening.”

“Right,” Tony said. He considered the dialogue from the security recording, considered Peter’s tone of voice when he’d said, _ Ned knows. _ He’d sounded completely sure, and Tony had never known Peter to make an accusation without being absolutely positive. 

“Ned,” he started.

“Yeah?”

“Peter says that you’re involved, somehow.” 

“What?” Ned asked, stunned. “I - I’m _ not _, Mr. Stark! I swear that I’m not.” 

“He says that you know who did this to him.”

“But I… I _ don’t. _ I would have said something if I did!” Ned fell silent, and Tony waited. “I mean... unless he’s talking about Harry.” 

Tony immediately straightened up. “What about Harry?” he asked. 

Ned sighed. “The first thing Peter sort of got angry about, with me, was that I'd told Harry that Peter was home, one night, and then Harry noticed when Peter came back from his crime fighting. I guess they talked about it, and Peter thought it made Harry suspicious, or something, and he told me not to tell Harry stuff about him anymore.”

Tony frowned to himself. Had that been Peter unconsciously recognizing that Harry was a threat, or had it just been him wanting to keep the fact that he was Spider-Man away from Harry for the same reason he kept the secret from anyone else? He honestly didn’t know, but he leaned more towards the latter, considering that Harry was one of Peter’s friends, and Tony did not see Peter ever willingly identifying Harry as a threat. 

Still, it was worth noting. If this was what Peter had been talking about, in reference to Ned knowing what was going on, then he needed to keep it in mind. Especially once Natasha came back to him with information on the Osborns. 

“All right,” he said. “Is there _ anything _ else, Ned?” 

“I don’t… I don’t think so.” 

“Are you positive?” 

“No, of course not!” Ned exclaimed. “But I don’t… I can’t think of anything right now. I still can’t believe Peter said that I know what’s going on. Why would he think that?” 

“There’s a lot of things that Peter’s been saying and doing that we think might have something to do with whatever’s wrong with him,” Tony told him, choosing to give him some form of solace, since he trusted Ned, believed him. “He responds kind of angrily to me, and whenever we’ve mentioned you, he sort of… retreats inside himself, like he’s afraid of giving anything away.”

“Why?” Ned asked, softly, sounding worried. “What’s - why would they want to hurt him like that, Mr. Stark?” 

“I don’t know,” Tony responded, leaning his forehead against his hand. “But I’m going to find out.”

There was a knock on the door of the office, and Tony glanced up when the door opened. Bruce stood there, holding a piece of paper. 

“I gotta go,” he said into the phone. “We’ll keep you updated.”

“Wait, Mr. Stark?” Ned started, and Tony waited. “You... _ you _know that I’m not involved, right? You believe me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Tony said. He lowered the phone, ending the call, and looked at Bruce, waving him into the room. “What’d you find?”

Bruce sighed. “There’s an unidentifiable toxin in his bloodstream,” he said, handing Tony the paper across the desk. “The system was able to pick up a mix of a bunch of different things; metoprolol, diazepam, things that are fairly common. It seems like this unknown toxin was a pretty severe mixture of a lot of different drugs, as well as somethings that couldn't be named.”

“Metoprolol,” Tony repeated, glancing up from the paper. “Doesn’t that lower blood pressure? Why would they include that?”

“One of its side effects is memory loss,” Bruce said. “And… this may be far-fetched, but if Peter had lowered blood pressure… he may have struggled to concentrate, his vision could have been impaired… they may have just been hoping it would lead to him being unaware, and helpless, when they finally went for his suit.” 

“You think that the point of this whole thing was to just weaken him, then,” Tony said, and Bruce shrugged.

“It’s one possibility.”

Tony examined the paper for a moment, noting the varying levels of the different drugs that the test had found. “What about the mood swings?” he finally asked. 

“That could be caused by his lowered blood pressure, too,” Bruce responded. “Studies have shown that shifts can lead to irritability. Kind of like when you’re grumpy because you haven’t eaten anything.”

“This was more than just Peter being grumpy, though,” Tony said. 

Bruce gestured towards the paper. “There’s a lot of drugs that lower blood pressure in the mix, alongside the things that we couldn't identify, so who knows what the hell those were doing to him." He pause, and then admitted, "He’s probably lucky that he didn’t have a heart attack, or worse.” 

“I doubt his body would’ve let that happen,” Tony said. “It probably got rid of the toxin just fast enough to where nothing fatal occurred, but there was enough of it leftover to cause the side effects we’ve noticed.” He set the paper down, covered his face with his hands for a second. “Shit, how long has this been around him?” 

“That’s another thing,” Bruce said, and Tony glanced up. “The test indicated that the toxin was most likely airborne.”

“So he _ was _ being drugged,” Tony said, unsurprised. “Right.” 

“Well, was there ever a question about that?” Bruce asked, frowning. 

“No, I guess not,” Tony replied. “Still, it helps us figure out how we might be able to approach this. If there’s something going on in his apartment that’s dispersing this toxin, we’ll need to go in with masks.”

“If it was in the apartment, wouldn’t Ned and Cheri have been affected, too?” 

Tony’s shoulders fell. He hadn’t even thought of that. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Shit. What does that mean, then? The fact that they aren’t dealing with the same problems? The fact that they aren’t _ dead?” _

“It has to have been targeted at Peter alone,” Bruce told him. “Obviously I don’t know _ how, _ but it’s the only explanation.”

Tony rubbed at his eyebrow, eyeing the paper. “Is there anything in there that causes anxiety?” 

“Nothing of note,” Bruce said with a shake of his head. “It could be one of the substances we couldn't identify.” He tilted his head. “You want to know about the triggers, where they might have come from.”

“Yes, I want to know where the triggers might have come from,” Tony said, standing up and walking around the desk. “I also want to know who the fuck would do this to him, just for his fucking suit.” He shook his head angrily, placing his hands on his waist and looking sideways at Bruce. “Did you show this to them?” 

“No,” Bruce replied, quietly. “They were asleep when I poked my head in there.”

Tony let out a slow breath. “That’s something, at least,” he said. Bruce nodded in agreement. “I talked to Ned.”

Bruce frowned. “Did you tell him what Peter’s been saying?” 

“Yes,” Tony said. “He thinks it might have something to do with Ned saying something to Harry that might have made him suspicious.” 

“Oh.” Bruce rubbed at the back of his head for a second. Tony could see that he needed to get his hair cut. “What do you think?” 

“I think Harry Osborn is the only person on my suspect list right now, who knows Peter personally,” Tony responded. 

“So… you don’t think Ned is involved?” 

“How could I, Bruce?” Tony asked him, his chest aching. “He’s been Peter best friend for years. Since they were kids.” He closed his eyes, turning his head away. “Not every childhood friend turns out to be the same as mine.”

“Tiberius Stone?” Bruce guessed, and Tony grunted. “Right. You found out.”

“I got an email from him, wondering if any of my associates have been poking around in his databases, looking for something.” Tony shot Bruce a look. “What the hell is Natasha up to?” 

“I wanted to tell you, earlier,” Bruce started, “but then Cheri called, and we got busy. We found out that the object in the footage we have was a drone, and Natasha found a receipt for a drone purchase coming out of Viastone.” 

Tony let out a hoarse laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” 

“I know,” Bruce sighed. “I said it was a bad idea, but you know how they are.”

“Was this Steve’s idea?’ 

“No, actually,” Bruce said, relieved that he was being honest. “He didn’t want to go behind your back, but Natasha said that you’d just be upset if we said anything to you.” He lifted his shoulders. “They just want to help.” 

“How many times do I have to tell them that I don’t _ care _ about the break-in?” Tony asked, tiredly. “Honestly, they didn’t take anything, and the amount of damage was, like, as much as a jug of milk. It literally doesn’t matter.” 

“I think they’re bored,” Bruce admitted, and Tony snorted. “I know, it’s stupid, but I really do think that’s a least part of the reason they’re making it a big deal. They want something to do, and looking for whoever broke into the Tower is… something to do.” 

“Well, tell them, then, that if they want something to do, they can find Peter’s suit,” Tony muttered, leaning against the wall, his eyes falling shut. “God, it’s been a long day.”

“Yes,” Bruce agreed, sighing. “We should all take a break. Maybe Natasha and I can cook for everyone?” 

“That might be nice,” Tony mumbled. “Would she mind?” 

“No, I’m sure she wouldn’t,” Bruce replied. He smiled a little. “I’ll go find her.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “I should check on the kids again, probably.” 

They exited the office together, and parted ways inside the elevator. Tony took it down to the floor that Peter’s suite was located on. Once there, he knocked on the door, gently, and then opened it just a little, poking his head inside as he shoved the test results sheet into his pocket. 

He spotted Cheri first. She lay on the bed, curled up onto her side, still asleep. He smiled, and glanced around the rest of the room, blinking when he saw Peter sitting at the desk. The kid was looking at him. 

“Hey,” Tony greeted, after struggling to come up with something to say. “Uh… how’re you doing?” 

“Better, I guess,” Peter replied. He sounded tired, still. “I’m sorry for earlier.” 

“Peter, you don’t have to apologize,” Tony told him. 

“I do, though,” Peter insisted, and his voice was desperate now. “It’s - I wasn’t careful enough, and I lost the suit, and people are going to be able to figure out how it works now and -“

“Peter, hey,” Tony interrupted, stepping further into the room and holding up his hands. “Stop it. Overreacting like this isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I just - I’m so _ sorry,” _Peter whispered, hanging his head between his hands, shoulders shaking. 

Tony gazed helplessly at him, not wanting to get too close, but also wanting to comfort him. He couldn’t figure out which was more important. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Cheri had woken up, and she hurried across the room to Peter’s side, putting her arms around him. Peter hid his face against her stomach, clutching at her waist, and Cheri looked at Tony, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What did you say to him?” she demanded, eyes flashing. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Tony replied, nonetheless feeling as though he’d made some sort of mistake. 

“Don’t get mad at him,” he heard Peter mumble. Cheri glanced down at the top of his head. “It’s not his fault, it’s mine.” 

“Pete, none of this is your fault!” Cheri insisted, holding him close. 

“It’s _ all _ my fault,” Peter responded. “All of it. If I hadn’t… I should have realized something was going on, done something about it, but I didn't because I was too busy doing everything else.” He lifted his head, looked up at her. “I didn’t take care of myself first, when I should have.” 

Cheri didn’t say the first thing that came to her mind, which was something along the lines of, _ Yes, which is what I’ve been telling you for weeks, now. _ Instead, she bowed her own head, until she could press her forehead against his. 

“What’s done is done,” she murmured. “There’s no point in blaming anyone. We need to move on, figure out how to get the suit back, if we can. Figure out who’s been drugging you.” She lifted her head again, and glanced at Tony. “It was drugs, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, a whole butt load of them,” Tony replied, pulling the paper out and walking over to her. Cheri took it from him, and Tony retreated again, very carefully avoiding Peter’s eyes. “All of those things led to his memory loss and mood swings in some way. There's some stuff in there that we couldn't give a name to, which suggests they might have been crafted especially for this."

“Metoprolol,” Cheri mumbled, frowning to herself. She glanced up at him. “Isn’t that for high blood pressure? I think my _ abuelo _ took a pill with it in it, for a little while.”

Tony nodded. “One of the side effects is memory loss, and Bruce thinks that they might have been hoping it would dull Peter’s senses. Probably along with all the other things that were in there.”

Cheri gazed down at the list. Tony could see how pale she was, her light brown skin abnormally dull. “How are you not dead?” she finally whispered, looking at Peter again. 

“They didn’t want me dead,” he replied, simply. The lack of infliction was almost scary.

Cheri put the paper down on the desk, hugging him close once more. “Jesus,” she said, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. _ “Jesus, _ Peter.”

“I’m all right,” Peter told her, wrapping one of his arms around her waist and squeezing gently. “Now, anyway.” His eyes managed to find Tony’s, even though he could see that his mentor was trying his hardest to avoid looking at him. “Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?” Tony asked, examining the floor. 

“Did you… uh, did you talk to Ned?” 

Cheri immediately looked up, blinking. “What about Ned?” she asked, carefully, and Tony shook his head. 

“I heard what Peter said, Cheri,” he said. “I called him. He said that he doesn’t know anything, except for when you got angry with him for telling Harry something that might have made him suspicious.”

Peter sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m not talking about that,” he said. “I’m talking about the _ candle.” _

“The candle?” 

“The _ candle,” _ Cheri said, inhaling sharply. _ “Mierda, _I knew that fucking thing was suspicious.” 

“What candle?” Tony demanded. 

“Two weeks ago, I guess, Harry and I had dinner, and he pulled out this candle,” Peter explained. “It was purple, and it - I thought it smelled like flowers or something.”

“No,” Cheri said, shaking her head. “It was, like… citrusy. A fruit of some kind.” 

“That’s what Ned said,” Peter said. “He must have liked it, because he took it into his room.” 

Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We need that candle,” he muttered, dialing Ned’s number. He picked up on the first ring, this time. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have that candle?” Tony asked him. There was a moment of silence, and then Ned cursed, softly. 

“Yeah,” he said, a bit louder, and Tony heard him move, pick something up. “The purple one?” 

“Yes,” Tony said. “The one that smells fruity. We need it.”

“Now?” Ned asked. 

_ “Now, _Ned,” Tony said, probably more harshly than necessary. “Bring it to the Compound.” 

“But Harry’s here,” Ned told him, just as Tony was removing the phone from his ear. “Don’t you want me to, I don’t know, ask him questions or something?” 

Tony let out a breath, closing his eyes. Harry. They couldn’t let the kid leave the apartment, or else they might not be able to find him again. “Keep him there,” he said to Ned, opening his eyes again. “I’m on my way.”

“On your way to do _ what?” _ Cheri asked, stepping away from Peter, even though he reached out a hand and grabbed for one of hers. She let him take it, but she kept her eyes on Tony. “Mr. Stark?” 

“Harry’s at the apartment,” Tony explained, sliding his phone away again. “I’m going to ask him some questions.”

Cheri’s eyes widened. “No,” she said, pulling her hand from Peter’s and moving quickly across the room, to stand in the doorway. She shook her head. “Let me go, please.”

“Cheri -”

“Mr. Stark,” she retorted, gazing at him steadily. “He won’t talk to you.” 

“And you think he’ll talk to _ you?” _ Tony asked, sharply. 

“Yes,” Cheri said. “He will. You know he will.”

Tony studied her for a moment. She was right, he realized. She’d known Harry for years; Tony had never formally met him. Cheri had known Harry even before she’d known Peter. Harry had _ introduced _ her to Peter, for God’s sake. She knew how to talk to him. Beyond that, she was, apparently, trained as a SHIELD agent. She would have a better chance of getting something out of Harry than Tony would. 

He let his shoulders fall. “I’m trusting you to do this, Cheri,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t… don’t fuck it up. For his sake, if nothing else.” He tilted his head in Peter’s direction. 

“I’ve got it,” Cheri assured him, keeping her eyes on his. “You have my word.”

Tony stared at her for a second longer, before he sighed, and dipped his head. “Okay,” he said, quietly. 

Cheri nodded, and moved out of the way of the door again, to go back to Peter. He gazed up at her, clearly understanding what was going on. He did not look as though he liked the plan, however, and he shook his head as she squatted down in front of the desk chair, taking his hands. 

“You can’t,” he whispered. 

“I have to, Peter,” Cheri told him. “It’s me or no one. We need to know what Harry knows, if anything, and I’ll be able to get it out of him.”

“But what if he _ is _ involved, and you get hurt?” Peter asked, his voice cracking. “I can’t - I won’t let you do that for me.”

The corner of Cheri’s mouth raised in a small smile. “I wouldn’t do it for just anyone,” she said. “You should feel special.” 

This did not amuse Peter, which had been her goal, and Cheri let her smile fall. She reached up, traced his jaw with her thumb. “Trust me,” she said quietly, her eyes finding his again. “Please, _ mi corazón.” _

Tony had to walk out of the room, then. He felt as though he were intruding on something that belonged only to them, especially hearing how tender Cheri had sounded, referring to Peter as her heart of all things. Christ. 

Cheri gazed at Peter, watching his expression. She needed him to say that he knew she could handle this. She needed to know that he trusted her with interrogating one of their best friends, of getting the information they needed in order to help him. She needed to know that Peter believed in her. 

“I do trust you,” Peter told her, reaching up and covering her hand with his. His eyes offered her the answers to all the other questions she’d been asking with her own. “You know I do.”

“Okay,” Cheri said. She stood and kissed him, before backing away. “I’ll be back,” she said. “Okay?” 

Peter nodded, weakly. Cheri turned, walking out of the room. She left the door open, partially, inhaling slowly as she centered herself. It had been a minute, since she’d put her SHIELD skills to the test. She could only hope they wouldn’t fail her, now.


	23. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, well, an attempt at one.

**October 1st, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 8:52 PM**

Harry wanted to leave. That much, Ned could tell. Once he realized that neither Cheri or Peter were home, but Ned was, Harry knew that something was wrong, and he either did not want to be involved, or he _ was _ involved, and did not want Ned to find out.

However, Tony had told him to keep Harry at the apartment, and that was what Ned intended to do. Tony had said that he trusted him, believed him when he insisted he had nothing to do with whatever was going on with Peter, but Ned wanted to prove it. If keeping Harry in the apartment helped to do that, then so be it. 

So, he’d stationed himself in the living room, thankful for the marathon of _ Will and Grace _ that was currently being shown on TV. He wasn’t exactly paying attention to it, but it gave him an excuse to be sitting in the living room, if Harry asked. Meanwhile, he typed away at a work project on his computer, keeping a quarter of his attention on Harry’s bedroom door at all times. 

Eventually, the sound of a key in the lock on the front door made him close his laptop, and he stood up, setting the computer down on the coffee table. He blinked in surprise when Cheri pushed her way into the apartment instead of Tony. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “Mr. Stark was supposed to come.”

“I convinced him to let me come instead,” Cheri replied, setting her bag down on the couch and glancing towards Harry’s bedroom. “I think I might actually be able to get him to talk, if he has anything to say.”

Ned let out a breath. “What if he doesn’t say anything?” he asked, letting himself really accept that Harry was probably involved in the whole mess. 

Cheri squared her shoulders. “Let’s not think about that,” she said, and then she walked across the apartment to Harry’s door. Ned shut off the TV and moved to the end of the hall. Cheri hesitated a moment before knocking on the door.

“Harry, do you have some time to talk?” she asked through it. 

A moment passed. And then two. Ned started to wonder if Harry had climbed out the window, and regretted giving him the room on the fire escape. He was about to point this out to Cheri, when the door opened. 

Harry glanced between Cheri and Ned. Ned thought he looked a little sick, but otherwise, his appearance seemed normal. He even smiled slightly at them both. 

“Hey,” he greeted, leaning against the door frame. “What’s up? Is Peter home?” 

Cheri stared at him for a moment. “What do you think the answer to that question is?” she finally asked, and Harry blinked at her. 

“Uh… I’d guess no,” he said. “What’s - why’re you so pissed?” 

“You tell me, Harry,” Cheri replied, crossing her arms. “What reason would I have for being pissed?” 

Harry glanced passed her, towards Ned, frowning. Ned did his best not to meet his eyes, unsure he’d be able to hide his own emotions. Harry turned back to Cheri. “I don’t know,” he said. “Uh… Peter’s staying at work late? You got a bad grade on a test, a paper? I don’t -”

“Harry,” Cheri said, cutting him off, and Harry lifted an eyebrow. Ned had to admit, he was putting on a pretty convincing show. Unless he really didn’t know what Cheri was trying to get out of him. 

“Cheri,” he said, mimicking the tone she had used. “What’s going on?” 

“Tell me about the candle,” Cheri said, instead of responding to his question. 

Ned, for the briefest of moments, thought he saw fear invade Harry’s expression. Just as quickly, however, the confusion was back. “What candle?” he asked, stepping around Cheri and moving past Ned into the living room. They both followed him, and after a moment, Harry turned to face them again, blinking. “That purple one I found? The one that smells like some sort of fruit.”

“Funny,” Cheri said, walking away from him a few steps. “Peter said that it smelled like flowers.”

“Yeah, but he’s weird,” Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t know where it went.” 

“Ned?” Cheri began, looking back at him. Ned immediately hurried to his room and retrieved the candle, which had sat, forgotten, on his desk for several weeks. He brought it back to the living room, and handed it to Cheri, who examined it. 

“How’d you make it?” she finally questioned, looking at Harry again. 

“Make the candle?” Cheri tilted her head, and Harry frowned. “I don’t - I didn’t make the candle. It was just sitting under the sink. I figured Peter’s aunt bought it for us, when we moved in, or that you’d bought it.”

“Harry, this will be so much easier if you just talk to me,” Cheri said. She held the candle out to him. “What’s in this?” 

“I - candle stuff, I guess,” Harry said. “Wax, some kind of incense, I don’t fucking know. What’s with the third degree?” 

“Harry, please,” Ned said, quietly. Harry looked at him, and Ned spread his hands. “Talk to her. Don’t make this harder.”

“Talk to her about _ what?” _ Harry demanded. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you two?” 

“We know you’ve been drugging Peter,” Cheri said. 

Silence descended in the room. Harry looked between the two of them, a pretty convincing expression of shock on his face. “Peter’s been drugged?” he finally asked. “Is that why he’s been acting weird? Who - I mean, why would someone want to drug him?” 

“You tell us,” Cheri replied, handing the candle to Ned again, who placed it on the coffee table, walking back around the couch and leaning against it. “Who’re you working with? Is it Oscorp?”

“Well, yeah, I work for Oscorp, but not - I haven’t been drugging Peter,” Harry said. “And like, if I were to drug Peter, I wouldn’t do it with a fucking candle.”

“Okay, so if we decided to test the candle, we wouldn’t find traces of metoprolol and all kinds of home-brewed nastiness in it?” Cheri queried, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed, his tone exasperated. “I had nothing to do with it!” 

Cheri stared at him for a moment. She then glanced back at Ned, a question in her eyes. He inhaled, and looked at Harry. Harry had crossed his arms defensively, and was glaring at them both. Ned returned his eyes to Cheri, and inclined his head, slightly. 

Cheri turned to Harry. “How long have you known?” 

“Known _ what?” _

“Harry.”

“I don’t - I don’t know what you want from me,” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “If Peter’s been drugged, shouldn’t you be with him? Why are you here talking to me, accusing me?”

“Because who else am I going to accuse?” Cheri asked him. “No one else could have been drugging Peter for this length of time.” She exhaled a breath through her nose. “So talk to me, Harry. Tell me what’s going on, and maybe we can help. Is it Oscorp? Is it just your dad? Is it someone else entirely? Who did you do it for?” 

“I can’t - why don’t you believe me?” Harry queried, his voice low. “I - we’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“I know,” Cheri said. “Which is why I offered to be the one to question you, instead of someone else, someone a lot bigger and more inclined to hurt you for what you’ve been doing.” She leveled him with an even look. “Talk to me, Harry. Tell me what you know.”

Harry looked at her for a moment longer, and then at Ned. “Please,” Ned said, softly. 

Harry lowered his gaze to the floor. Ned watched him, waiting to see what he’d do. He did _ not _ expect Harry to make a break for his bedroom, nor did he expect Cheri to jump nimbly onto his back, wrapping an arm around his neck in a choke hold. Harry gagged, scratched at her arms. 

“Stop struggling, Harry, please,” Cheri whispered to him, keeping up the pressure she had on his carotid artery. She obviously hadn’t wanted to employ this method, but Harry hadn’t given her much of a choice She continued to speak gently to him as she lowered him to the floor. “It won’t help. This could have gone so much better, if you’d just _ talked _ to us.” 

Harry struggled for maybe three more seconds before he went limp. Cheri squatted beside him, feeling for his pulse, and she exhaled when she felt it beating steadily beneath her fingers. She glanced over at Ned, who was gaping, not that she was surprised. 

“What the hell was _ that?” _ he exclaimed. “Why do you - I mean, what the _ fuck, _Cheri?” 

“I know some martial arts,” she said, and then she gestured. “Call Mr. Stark. I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way.” 

“Martial arts,” Ned muttered to himself, struggling to free his phone from his pocket, vaguely aware of Cheri moving around the apartment behind him. “She knows _ martial arts. _ Hoo boy, Peter, we really made ourselves some insane friends in college.”

“Ned, stop talking to yourself,” Cheri said patiently as she finished bounding Harry’s hand together with duct tape she’d retrieved from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” Ned mumbled. He finally managed to pull out his phone, and he called Tony. He picked up on the second ring. 

“What’s up? Is Cheri there?”

“Yeah, she’s here,” Ned replied, glancing towards her. She’d dragged Harry to the wall, and propped him up against it. “Uh, and things didn’t really go as planned, I don’t think.”

“Shit,” Tony sighed. 

“Give me the phone,” Cheri said, appearing in front of Ned, who blinked at her, but submissively handed her the phone. Cheri brought it to her ear. “He wouldn’t admit to anything, but you’d have to be completely blind not to have realized he was lying,” she said. 

Ned blinked again. What the hell was she even talking about? If he hadn’t known what he did, he would have been positive that Harry was completely obtuse to the whole situation. 

“He tried to make a break for it, I stopped him before he could,” Cheri continued. She listened to whatever Tony had to say for a moment, before she shook her head. “I don’t think we can bring him to the Compound. I feel as though his father might be involved, and Norman Osborn won’t like it if his son goes missing.” 

“Well, you can’t leave him there,” Tony said into his phone, rubbing at his brow and glancing out the window of his office. The moon had risen, but there were clouds in the sky that hid it from view. “Since, apparently, your method of interrogation didn’t work so well. We need answers, Cheri.” 

“And I’ll _ get _ them,” Cheri insisted, annoyed. “He can’t avoid questions, now that he tried to run from them. We _ know _he’s involved, now.”

Tony stared down at the floor for a moment. He should have expected this would happen. “Cheri,” he began, keeping his tone even. “You’re letting your emotions get to you.”

“I am not.”

“You _ are,” _Tony said, “and it’s perfectly understandable that you would be this angry. A friend of yours and Peter’s has turned out to not be that great of a friend. A pretty shitty one, in fact. But letting that anger be what runs your decisions in the next few hours is going to get us nowhere. You need to let someone else take over, someone who can detach themselves from the situation and actually get answers.”

“I can get answers,” Cheri told him. “I have to.”

Tony inhaled. “For Peter, right?” Cheri’s silence was all the response he needed. “Cheri, you trying to get answers for Peter, out of a friend of yours and Peter’s, now that you know for a fact that he’s involved, is a recipe for disaster. Let someone else handle it.”

He waited for Cheri to speak, hoping that she didn’t take offense to his assessment of the situation. Tony could be hot-headed, too, and he had had problems with letting his emotions get the best of him in the past. It had taken him a long time to realize that emotions were messy, and sometimes, a situation called for them to be disregarded. This was one of those times. He just hoped Cheri could realize that as well. 

Eventually, he heard her let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah,” she said. “All right. Uh… how do you want to do this, then?” 

Tony relaxed. “Well, Peter wants you back here,” he said. “Or at least, he wants to be with you. We obviously want him to feel like he’s in a safe space, though, so -”

“Is he okay at the Compound?” Cheri asked. “Because it’d probably be easier if he could just stay there. I’ll come back, and someone else can come out here to sit on Harry, wait for him to wake up and talk to him.”

Tony sighed. “I think he’s okay,” he said. Peter hadn’t emerged from his room, not since Cheri had left. “He hasn’t complained, anyway.” 

“All right,” Cheri said. “I’ll head back over there. Who are you sending here?” 

Tony needed to think about that for a second. He couldn’t go, because he doubted that he’d get any answers out of Harry, either. Natasha, who would have been his second choice, was currently busy doing her extensive background check. Bruce was too nice, Steve…

Tony blinked. Steve. He could send Steve. Even though he was also close to Peter, he could keep a level head, while also being hard enough to get answers. And, if he wanted, he could take Sam or Bucky with him, just as like… well, a _ threat, _ Tony supposed. 

“I think I’ll let Cap handle it,” he said. “He - yeah. He’ll be able to get an answer. Or several answers.”

Cheri exhaled, and Tony thought he could hear her physically relax along with it. “Okay,” she said. “Uh… what about Ned?” 

Tony sighed. “I don’t know, Cheri,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know if… if Peter will be okay with that.”

“Right, I don't either,” she agreed, her voice just as low. “Uh… I don’t know. Could you ask him?” 

Tony closed his eyes for a moment. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll go ask, send Steve over. You should stay at the apartment until he gets there, in case Harry wakes up.”

“Okay,” Cheri agreed. “Just let me know what Peter says. I know Ned’s worried.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I’ll, uh… I’ll talk to Peter, see what he says. If he even says anything to me, I don’t know if he’s… y’know.”

Cheri knew. She didn’t have to confirm that she did. “Let me know,” she said again, looking over at Ned, who’d sank down heavily on the floor near where Harry slumped against the wall. “Bye.”

She brought his phone back over to Ned, who took it without looking up at her. Cheri gazed at him for a moment. “Cap’s coming,” she said. “To talk to Harry, once he wakes up.”

Ned nodded a few times. “Okay,” he murmured. “That’s probably a good idea. We weren’t the best interrogators.”

“I think it’s because we just… we can’t believe it,” Cheri said, squatting and then sitting down on the floor. She drew her knees to her chest, studying Harry’s sleeping form for a moment. “I don’t - I _ can’t _ believe it,” she whispered. 

“How do you think he found out about Spider-Man?” Ned asked, glancing at her. 

“I don’t know,” Cheri said, shaking her head. “I - I guess it was just… connecting the dots, maybe.” She hid her face against her knees, inhaling slowly. “I just don’t understand what they wanted to accomplish. Who - I mean, were they only after Peter’s suit? I have to assume so, since they didn’t take Peter, too. But I feel like it was a whole lot of trouble just to get his suit. All Harry had to do was go through his stuff to try and find it.”

“Maybe he did, and he couldn’t, so whoever wanted it said that they needed to do something more extreme,” Ned sighed. “Peter does have his suit with him _ all _ the time, even when he’s not wearing it.”

“That’s true,” Cheri agreed. She swallowed. “Just… what do they want with it? To sell it?” 

“I think it depends on who took it,” Ned admitted. 

“You’re probably right,” Cheri mumbled. She lifted her head, glanced at Harry. “I really wish I hadn’t needed to do that.”

“What, choke him the hell out?” Ned queried, sarcastically. “Where did you even learn that? Did you - I mean, I guess I wouldn’t blame you for taking self defense classes, but like… that was a fucking Wrestlemania-esque take-down.” 

Cheri let out a quiet breath. “Okay, Ned? I’m going to tell you, but you have to promise not to say anything to Peter,” she said, looking at him. 

“Don’t you think it’s time we stop keeping things from one another?” Ned demanded, frowning. Cheri blinked at him, brow furrowed, eyes hurt, and Ned relented. “Fuck, fine. I won’t tell Peter.” 

Cheri nodded, and lowered her gaze to the floor. “I, uh… I went through SHIELD’s training program, to be an agent,” she said, softly. “It - it was years before I met Peter, and once my Tata died, we didn’t think I’d actually ever be contacted to do work for them, but then I _ met _ Peter, and Nick Fury himself asked me to keep an eye on him.”

Ned stared at her, flabbergasted. “So you’ve been spying on Peter for Fury for _ years?” _ he asked, and Cheri winced. 

“Not _ spying,” _ she insisted. “Just… watching out for him, making sure things were going smoothly. I didn’t - the last thing I wanted, ever, was to have him know about it, and automatically assume that our entire relationship is built on my job. It _ isn’t. _ I love him. Christ, Ned, I want to spend the rest of my life with him!” 

Ned’s eyes went wide, maybe half a millisecond before Cheri’s did, as they both realized what she’d said. Cheri clamped her hand over her mouth, eyes huge, and Ned pointed at her, mouth moving wordlessly in shock. 

It took him several seconds to actually speak: “You want to _ marry _ Peter?” 

Cheri slowly lowered her hand. She blinked a few times, and then smiled a little. “I mean, we don’t have to get married, necessarily, but...” She sheepishly lifted her shoulders and Ned stood up, throwing his hands into the air. 

“Fuck, Cheri, then you _ have _ to tell him! About SHIELD, all of it, because if he finds out about it on his own, he’s going to be really upset.”

“But, Ned -”

“No!” he exclaimed, whipping around to stare at her. “He needs to know, especially if you’re _ marriage _ serious about your relationship. If he finds out, without you telling him, I don’t… he’s going to automatically assume that you were keeping it from him so that he wouldn’t break-up with you, and so that you could keep doing your job.”

“That…” Cheri trailed off, and looked down. Ned was right, she knew. But… she couldn’t tell Peter now, not with everything else that was going on. It would end up being too much. “I’ll tell him,” she murmured, “but only once we’re done with this whole mess, all right? It - telling him now would be overwhelming, and he doesn’t need that.”

Ned sighed, relieved. “You’re right,” he said. “It’d be smarter to wait. But you _ will _ tell him.”

“Yes,” Cheri said, frowning. “I will.” She nodded towards Harry. “Keep an eye on him; I need to pack a bag real quick, since I’m going back to the Compound.”

“Okay,” Ned replied, and he leaned back against the couch, keeping an eye on Harry while Cheri disappeared into her and Peter’s bedroom. “How long is he going to be out for?” 

“Could be a while,” Cheri replied from the bedroom. “He might stay asleep, or he could come to in a few minutes. I’d place my money on the first one, though, considering he’s still out, and I moved him and everything.”

“Okay. When do we start to worry?” 

Cheri returned from the bedroom, holding a backpack. “We don’t have to worry,” she told him, setting the bag down near the front door. “I know how to render a person unconscious, Ned. I didn’t kill him, or cause any brain damage, so relax.” 

Her phone rang, and she reached into her bag, pulling it out. “What’s up, Mr. Stark?” she said, answering the call. “Did you talk to Peter?” She looked at Ned for a moment as she listened to what Tony had to say, and then smiled a little. “All right. I’ll let him know. Cap’s on his way?” She paused again, and then nodded. “Sounds good. We’ll wait here for him. See you soon.”

She lowered her phone again, ending the call, and turned to Ned. “Peter said that he’d like you to come to the Compound, too.” 

Ned’s shoulders fell. “He’s feeling better, then?” he guessed, and Cheri nodded. 

“I think so.” She glanced around the apartment for a moment. “There has to be something around here that was drugging him, not just the candle. He was only around it that one time, right?” 

“It’s been with me since that night, so yeah,” Ned replied, moving to grab the candle. He passed it to Cheri, who looked it over for a moment, before shaking her head and walking towards the kitchen. She placed the candle into a Ziploc bag, and then washed her hands. “Can’t be too safe,” she said, placing the Ziploc in the backpack.

“Sure,” Ned said, and he moved to wash his hands as well. “Any ideas of what else it could have been?”

“My first thought was that it was something in his suit, but if they’d been able to do that, they wouldn’t have needed to drug him at all, because they would have just taken the suit then.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. What bothers me is that you and I weren’t affected by it.”

“Right,” Ned said, blinking. He hadn’t even realized it until she’d said so aloud. “What the fuck is that about?” 

Cheri lifted her shoulders. “Hopefully, Cap’ll be able to get Harry to tell him,” she said. 

Ned hoped so, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that didn't go so good.


	24. They're Okay, For The Most Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Ned talk a little, and then so do Cheri and Tony.

**October 1st, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 11:34 PM**

Cheri pushed her way through the partially open door of Peter’s suite at the Compound. The room on the other side was dark, but the light was on in the attached bathroom, the door of which was closed. She set her bags down on the floor near the bed, and walked across the room towards the bathroom door. Lightly, she knocked on it. 

“Hey, Pete?” she started. “We’re here.” 

“‘Kay,” he replied, speaking barely loud enough for her to hear. “Uh… I’ll be out in a minute.”

Cheri didn’t like the way his voice sounded: strained, like he was in pain. “Is everything okay?” she asked, placing her hand on the door’s handle. 

“Yeah, fine,” Peter said. “Please don’t come in here.”

_ Well, now I most definitely want to go in there, _ Cheri thought to herself with a frown. She opened the door just a crack. “Peter, what’s going on?” 

“I don’t -” He exhaled a breath. “I don’t want you to see this. Please, Cheri.”

Cheri hesitated a moment, before opening the door fully. She blinked at what she found inside the bathroom, her heart lodging itself in her throat. “Peter…”

Peter stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel around his waist, hair damp. His upper half was uncovered, and Cheri could count every single one of his ribs from where she stood in the doorway. It looked as though he’d lost close to twenty pounds. 

Peter winced, catching her expression in the mirror. 

“I said I didn’t want you to see,” he murmured, grabbing for a shirt that sat on the counter. 

“What’s -” Cheri shook her head, completely stunned. “How did I not notice this?” 

“I think it looks worse than it actually is,” Peter said. “I - I haven’t really been eating, but it - only for a few days...” 

“You haven’t been eating for _ days,” _ Cheri repeated, shifting her eyes to his in the mirror. “Are you kidding me?” 

Peter looked sufficiently guilty. “I didn’t - I was worried,” he murmured, lowering his gaze. “I wasn’t sure what was going on with me, if it was food I was eating or something else, so I just… I took food out of the equation. I guess I was wrong, though.”

Cheri inhaled, slowly, trying to keep from either bursting into tears or cursing at him. She wasn’t sure which would be worse. “Peter, you need to eat,” she said. “How much weight have you lost?”

“Only a few pounds,” he responded. “Since I last checked.” Cheri said nothing, and Peter glanced upwards, meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Cheri said, forcing herself to be patient. “I understand your intention, but… why didn’t you just _ say _ something?” 

“Because it was my problem,” he murmured. He tugged on a pair of basketball shorts, discarding the towel in the laundry chute. He turned to face her, and now that she knew, Cheri could clearly see how much skinnier he looked. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed, hated herself for it. “And you haven’t been eating, either. How much weight have _ you _ lost?”

“Don’t turn this around on me,” Cheri warned, frowning. “Did you eat with the others?” Peter shook his head, and Cheri exhaled, closing her eyes. “You need to eat something, Peter. Come on.” 

“No, I don’t - can’t I stay here?” he asked, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom as she crossed the bedroom. 

“No,” Cheri responded without looking back. She held the door open for him, gesturing with her head. “Let’s go.” 

Peter walked out of his bedroom, sighing a little to himself, head bowed. Cheri placed her arm around his waist and walked with him into the living room. She glanced up, when she felt Peter stiffen, and saw Ned standing up from one of the couches, eyes wide. 

“H-hey, Peter,” he started. “Uh… you feeling any better?” 

“A little,” Peter murmured, avoiding Ned’s eyes. 

“Good,” Ned said. “That’s… that’s good to hear.”

Silence fell. Cheri glanced between the two of them for a moment, before clearing her throat and stepping sideways, away from Peter. He felt the loss of her at his side almost immediately. 

“I’m going to make some food,” she said. “Peter needs to eat. Ned, are you hungry?” 

“Yeah, always,” Ned responded, his eyes darting briefly in Peter’s direction. “Do you need any help?”

“No, that’s all right,” Cheri said. “I think you two should talk about some things. I’ll be back.” 

Peter reached out and grabbed her hand, before she could head towards the kitchen. She looked back at him, an eyebrow raised. Peter’s were drawn together, and he looked genuinely worried. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” he asked, softly. 

“Of course I’m not mad,” Cheri told him. She allowed him to tug her closer to where he stood, and she leaned up, placing a chaste kiss on the edge of his mouth. “I need to make you some food. Talk to Ned.”

Peter nodded, numbly, and watched her walk out of the room. He inhaled, then turned to face Ned again. Ned had sunk back down onto the couch, and he looked pretty uncomfortable. Peter knew he was responsible for that, and he bit the inside of his lip, walking slowly around a different couch and sitting down on it instead. 

“Uh… I’m sorry,” he said after several seconds, and Ned glanced at him. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” he assured. “Literally none of this is your fault, Peter.” 

“It’s all my fault,” Peter said, nervously popping the knuckles on his right hand. “I just… I should have said something, earlier on, when I started to realize that there was something wrong, and I didn’t. If I’d spoken up, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so bad.” 

Ned sighed. “Peter, it’s just like what happened with me,” he said. “I didn’t tell anybody about my parents, and things just kind of got out of control from there, until you stepped in to help." He shook his head. "It should have been my job to figure out there was something going on, and talk to you about it, since that’s what you did for me.”

“I’m sure I was a lot harder to approach than you were,” Peter replied. Ned couldn’t tell if that was meant to be a joke or not. “But there’s not really… not really any point in blaming anyone, I know,” Peter continued, “since it happened, and it’s done now.” 

“Right,” Ned said, nodding. “Uh… are they trying to find your suit?” 

“Yeah,” Peter responded, leaning back against the couch. He tilted his head back, and closed his eyes, wishing he had some water. The shower he’d taken had been one step away from boiling, and had most definitely dehydrated him. “Pretty sure Mr. Stark has people out right now. Who, I have no idea.”

“Sam’s working on it,” Tony said, walking into the room, overhearing their conversation. “And I asked the wizards to help. I tried relighting the tracker, but whoever took it expected that I’d do that, and they either disabled it fully, or just wrecked it.” 

Peter opened his eyes, saw Tony sit down on the couch next to Ned, shaking his hand as he went. Ned looked a little sick. “What, uh… what happens if we don’t find it?” he asked. 

“We’ll find it,” Tony said at once. He looked at Peter. “Natasha managed to pull some info about Norman Osborn. He’s pretty big on funding all sorts of research projects that have helped benefit the city in some way or another.” 

Peter nodded. “He’s the co-founder of Oscorp, and that’s what they’ve started focusing on, in recent years,” he said. “They get a lot of funding from the city itself.”

“Harry told you that?” Tony guessed, and Peter nodded again. Tony looked at Ned. “Did you bring the candle?” 

“We dropped it off with Dr. Banner already,” Ned told him. “He said he’d start tests on it immediately.”

“Good,” Tony said. He examined the floor for a moment, and then looked at Peter. “Right now, my thought is that Osborn wanted your suit to do research on it, figure out if Oscorp can replicate the technology in some manner, give mock-suits to the NYPD or something. If he doesn’t plan on selling it to some foreign mercenary group, that is.”

Peter felt sick himself, now. The last thing that he wanted was for the NYPD to run around in imitation Spider Suits. He _ definitely _ did not like the idea of some sort of mercenary group in another country posing a threat to people because he was unable to take care of himself, admit when there was something wrong with him. 

“We have to get it back,” he said, looking at Tony, who nodded. 

“We will, and believe me, if Oscorp is trying to replicate my technology, I’m gonna sue them before they can say _ billionaire.” _

“What? We aren’t going to go after them for _ drugging _ Peter?” Ned demanded. 

“We can’t, unless Peter’s suddenly decided that he wants the whole world to know that he’s Spider-Man,” Tony replied, glancing at Peter. 

“No,” Peter mumbled, dropping his head back again. 

“Hopefully, we can get Harry to confirm my theory,” Tony said, “and then we can head into Oscorp itself, and get the suit back.” 

Cheri poked her head into the living room. “Pete,” she started, and he looked at her. “Do you want to eat in here?”

“No, I’ll come in there,” he said, standing. Ned followed him into the kitchen, and they took seats on two barstools at the counter. Cheri passed them both bowls of steaming chicken noodle soup, along with a plastic wrapper full of crackers. 

“Thanks, Cheri,” Ned said, blowing on a spoonful of soup. “Smells great.”

“I hope it tastes okay,” Cheri replied, crossing her arms and leaning back against the refrigerator. “It’s from a can. I didn’t really want to take the time to make it from scratch.” She gestured to the fridge with her head. “Besides, I doubt we have any fresh vegetables, anyway.”

“It’s great,” Peter said, eyes on the bowl in front of him. “Thanks.”

“Try to eat all of it,” was Cheri’s response, and then she walked out of the kitchen. Tony looked at her as she sat down on the couch that Peter had vacated, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Anything from Captain Rogers?” she asked. 

Tony held up his phone. “He said that Harry’s starting to stir,” he said. “We should get some answers soon.” 

“Fuck, I hope so,” Cheri mumbled. She lowered her hands, and looked at him. “Did you know Peter hasn’t been eating?” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Tony admitted. “You look like you haven’t been eating, either.”

“Yeah, well, _ I _haven’t lost as much weight as he has,” Cheri said, sharply. She rested her forehead in her hand, eyes closing, and inhaled slowly. “Sorry, just - I don’t understand why this had to happen now.”

“Neither do I,” Tony said, his voice low. “But we’re going to get past it.” He allowed himself a grim smile. “We’ve dealt with much worse.”


	25. A New Day, A New Attempt At Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gives it a shot. Harry cooperates just the tiniest bit better.

**October 2nd, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 12:58 AM**

Steve sat in a desk chair that he’d pulled out of one of the bedrooms of the apartment, facing Harry, whom he and Bucky had moved onto the couch. The kid had started to wake up, and Steve had to wonder where Cheri had learned to so effectively knock someone unconscious, considering he’d been out for hours. 

Steve double checked the clock on the wall, just to be sure. Nope, his eyes hadn’t made it up; it was close to one in the morning already.

On the way to the city, he’d thought over how best to approach this situation. He knew that Tony was trusting him to get answers, and Steve did not want to let him down. After all, Peter was important to him, too. He wanted to figure out why Peter had to have been put through all this, just for his suit to be taken and nothing more. If Harry Osborn had the answer to that question, then Steve was going to get it out of him. 

Still, he knew that he couldn’t take drastic measures. That wouldn’t help anyone. Hopefully, Harry would recognize that there was no longer any point in lying, and would willingly offer information. Steve wasn’t holding out much hope for that outcome, but until he was faced with something else, he’d approach questioning Harry in a way that typically worked when approaching an injured animal: gentle, but direct, to get to the heart of the issue. 

The kid was probably going to have some sort of instant reaction, to finding him in the place of a familiar face, but Steve and Bucky had prepared for that. They’d made sure his wrists and feet were bound, so that he wouldn’t go straight into attack mode. Hopefully, he would stay calm long enough for Steve to introduce himself, explain what he wanted from Harry, and let him know that once he gave Steve the information he needed, he’d be free to go. 

That probably wasn’t actually going to happen, considering, but Steve figured it’d be best to tell the kid things _ he _ probably wanted to hear, so that he’d want to share whatever got him those things. 

Harry inhaled, and Steve sat up straight, crossing his arms over his chest. Bucky, who had been in the kitchen, looking around for anything odd that might have also been the cause of Peter’s drugging, poked his head out, an eyebrow raised. 

Steve shook his head, a silent _ I can handle this. _ Bucky nodded in response, and went back into the kitchen. Steve returned his attention to Harry, who shifted, instinctively trying to pull his wrists apart before his eyes even opened. When his attempts were unsuccessful, his eyes opened, just a little, a frown on his face. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, and he tried to force himself into a sitting position. His eyes found Steve’s face, and he blew out a breath. “I should’ve guessed that they wouldn’t stick around and finish what they started.”

“You mean Cheri and Ned?” Steve guessed. Harry scowled. 

“Yes, I mean them,” he muttered, successfully pulling himself upright by leveraging his bound wrists against the back of the couch. He turned around to face Steve, setting his hands in his lap, unable to do much else with them. He glanced around the room for a moment, his eyes finding a window and the darkness outside. “Huh. Been out for a while. You curious about where Cheri learned how to do that?”

“I’m not here to talk to you about Cheri,” Steve said, and Harry frowned at him. 

“No, you’re here to accuse me of drugging one of my best friends.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to deny it?” 

“Well, that’s probably pointless,” Harry said with a sigh. “Considering _ you’re _ here to ask questions, now. I shouldn’t have tried to run.”

“No, that definitely didn’t help,” Steve agreed, leaning back in the computer chair. “But if you answer the questions that I have, maybe that _ will _ help.”

Harry stared at him for a second. Steve had to admit that the kid seemed to be pretty well aware of his situation, and no doubt was considering all his options. He was smart, though, Steve knew, had to be in order to graduate from college as salutatorian, so he hoped Harry would realize that talking to Steve was his only choice. 

After a moment, Harry licked his lips. “Could I get some water, first?” he asked. “I was unconscious for several hours, and I’m pretty thirsty.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, and he raised his voice, slightly. “Hey, Buck? Get the kid some water, please.”

“Oh, you’re not alone,” Harry commented snidely. “Was Captain America afraid of facing a slowly dying 22 year-old by himself?” 

“Nothing like that,” Steve said, aware that Harry had been trying to get an aggravated response out of him. As such, he kept his voice even, his expression calm. “But I figured that, since you were able to drug Peter for… what, a month, maybe longer? You probably had some wits about you, as well as some form of support. I thought it would be smart to have back-up.”

“I can’t exactly call for my own back-up,” Harry said as Bucky appeared from the kitchen, holding a cup of water. “So you’ve got me outmatched.”

“I’d prefer to keep it that way,” Steve said, nodding to Bucky. He moved around to the front of the couch, and placed the cup into Harry’s bound hands. Harry stared openly at Bucky’s arm, looking more amused than anything. After a moment, he looked at Steve again. 

“How long did they suspect HYDRA?” he questioned. 

Steve blinked, but only once. “How do you know about HYDRA?” 

“Pfft,” Harry said, lifting the cup and tilting it at an awkward angle to get some water into his mouth. He swallowed, and lowered the cup again, tilting his head thoughtfully as he took Steve and Bucky in. “How long have the two of you been friends?”

“What’s it to you?” Bucky asked, frowning. 

“Just curious,” Harry replied. He leaned forward, depositing the cup on the coffee table, which Steve had shifted a few feet sideways in order to make room for the chair he sat in. Harry leaned back against the couch again, and made a gesture with his fingers. “I guess you can ask questions. Don’t know if I’ll answer them; haven’t made up my mind, yet.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Steve said, leaning forward a little. “We can sit here all night until you do.”

Harry looked amenable to the idea. “Well, luckily for us, I just took a nice nap,” he said, and the corner of his mouth raised in a smirk. “Ask away, Captain.”

“Let’s start simple, then,” Steve said. “Why were you drugging Peter?”

“So that we could take his suit,” Harry replied easily. “I’d thought you would’ve guessed that by now.”

“It’s smart to confirm theories,” Steve told him. “Who wanted his suit?”

“Oscorp,” Harry said. He reached up, scratched at his nose. “My dad didn’t really tell me what for, though, just that he wanted it for an Oscorp project. Since he’s my dad, I didn’t really ask questions.” 

“You willingly helped your father drug Peter, to weaken him in order to take his suit, and you don’t even know why?” Steve asked, frowning, and Harry raised his shoulders. 

“I assumed my dad wouldn’t ask me to do something so serious unless it was really important that he get the suit,” he said. “Norman Osborn isn’t a stupid man, Captain Rogers. He knows what he wants, for what reasons, and when he asks you to help, you do.” 

Steve exchanged a glance with Bucky, who made a face. Steve shrugged, and turned back to Harry. “So, you don’t know why he wanted the suit,” he said, and Harry shook his head. “How long have you know that Peter is Spider-Man?”

“Three years, maybe four?” Harry lifted his shoulders. “I didn’t really start to get it until we moved in together, and then Ned… he just can’t keep _ any _ secrets when he’s wasted.” 

“Ned told you?” Steve clarified. 

“Well, he didn’t tell me that Peter is Spider-Man, no,” Harry replied. “But he did go off on a tangent about how Peter’s such a cool superhero, with cool superhero friends, and how he’s glad that Peter managed to find all of you, and all that gushy stuff.” 

Steve let out a breath. Maybe Peter had had a point, then, in putting the blame on Ned. How Peter had realized it, and never said anything, though, Steve couldn’t understand. Maybe Peter didn’t understand it, either. 

“Why’d it take so long for you to go after his suit, then?” Bucky queried.

Harry sighed. “Because I didn’t _ tell _ my dad immediately that I was living with Spider-Man,” he explained. “I’m not an asshole, at least, not fully. My dad figured it out on his own, and then got super mad that I _ didn’t _ tell him, and then he came up with this plan to get the suit, and I… I said I’d help, because I didn’t want him to be angry with me anymore. And I think it was expected of me _ to _ help.” 

Steve sighed inwardly. The kid had issues with his dad, with seeking approval and doing whatever he could to earn it. Steve didn’t have much experience with that, but he knew someone who’s entire childhood had been based on something similar. 

“So that’s what this was, then,” Bucky said, when Steve did not speak. “You just wanted to make it up to your father.”

Harry offered a small nod. “He’s - I mean, he’s never been a _ great _ dad, but I - I’ve been sick, since I was a baby, and he’s paid for hospitals, medication, nurses, despite what a lost cause I am, what a lost cause my health is, and it - he’s my dad.”

“Peter is your best friend,” Steve said. 

“I know,” Harry mumbled. “You think I’m _ proud _ that I had to hurt him? If I could’ve just taken the suit without drugging him with home-brewed concoctions of nastiness, I would’ve. I _ tried, _ but he had the thing with him all the damn time.”

“So, just to make sure I have this correct,” Steve started, leaning back. “Oscorp has Peter’s suit.”

Harry nodded. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated. 

“I mean, I don’t know what my dad wanted it for,” Harry said, “but if… if he can find someone to sell it to, he will.”

Steve looked at Bucky again. Bucky nodded, and walked away, taking Steve’s cell phone from him as he went. Steve turned back to Harry. “How’d you get the drugs into Peter’s system?”

“A few different ways,” Harry said. “We gave it a shot during that fire, and it seemed like it was going to work out, until Peter stopped trying to figure out who it was that set the fire in the first place. It was just going to be a toxin we released, that no one would notice in the smell of the fires itself.”

“So that was you, then,” Steve said. He’d have to let Sam know. “What next?” 

“There was a guy we hired, to kidnap a little girl and parade her around Central Park, where we knew Peter would be.” Harry shook his head. “It didn’t work, though, because he had Cheri with him, and I didn’t - I wasn’t going to put her in danger. Or Ned.”

“So what’s up with the candle, then?” Steve asked. 

“I only lit it when I was alone with Peter,” Harry explained. “Then it went missing, and I was really worried that whoever had taken it would light it, and then _ kill _ themselves accidentally.” He looked down. “I guess Ned forgot about it or something, though.” 

“You’re lucky,” Steve commented, shaking his head. “If someone else had been hurt because of this -”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Harry said, sharply. “I’m not an idiot. I knew how dangerous it was, which is why I managed to figure out a way to direct it only at Peter.” He lowered his gaze. “You should check his backpack. There’s, uh… yeah. It’s in there.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. “You’re not lying?” he asked, and Harry shook his head.

“What do I have to gain by lying, at this point?” 

That much was true, and Steve knew that Harry was smart enough to realize it. He waited for Bucky to return, and gestured towards Harry with his head. Bucky nodded, and leaned back against the wall next to the TV, arms crossed. Steve stood and went down the hall, poking his head into the room he’d taken the desk chair from. It didn’t take him long to recognize that it was the room Peter and Cheri shared, if the two different shelves of CDs were any indication. Sitting on the floor next to the desk was a brown backpack. 

Steve picked it up, and flipped it upside down. Objects fell from it, but Steve spotted what he was looking for almost immediately. He looked around for a moment, before pulling a tissue free from a box on the bedside table, and picking up the small black pod that he’d noticed. It was maybe two inches long, two inches wide, and could have been a small, wireless speaker, or something. Steve frowned at it for a moment, examining the side that had many tiny holes. A diffuser, maybe? He didn’t know for sure, and supposed it was best to bring it to Bruce, for him to examine.

He returned to the main room of the apartment, and rooted around in a couple drawers in the kitchen before coming across a Ziploc. He put the pod, wrapped in the tissue, into it, and sealed the bag. He then tilted his head, indicating for Bucky to join him. 

He did so, frowning at the Ziploc Steve held, before looking at him. “Stark says we need to keep the kid with us. We’ll take him to Oscorp tomorrow morning.”

Steve nodded in agreement, glancing towards where Harry sat motionless on the couch. “Do you think we should ask him about his illness?” he questioned, softly. “I mean, what if he has medication he’s supposed to take, or something?”

“It’d probably be a good idea,” Bucky said, and Steve handed him the Ziploc. “What is this?”

“It’s how Harry was drugging Peter without killing himself, or Cheri or Ned,” Steve responded. “Don’t lose it.”

Bucky smirked, and Steve walked back towards Harry. He glanced up, forced a smile. “Find it?” 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “What is it, exactly?”

“Sort of like an air freshener,” Harry said. “Just a constant stream of the gaseous form of the drug mixture. I put it in a part of the backpack that no one ever touches, ‘cause they forget it exists or something.” He shrugged. “He didn’t find it, so.”

“How long was it in there?” 

“A few weeks,” Harry said. “I had to refill it maybe twice. It’s activated through movement, so when it was just sitting on the floor or whatever, it wasn’t releasing any gas.” He fell silent for a moment, and then he glanced at Steve. He looked worried. “So… what happens now?”

“We take you with us to Oscorp in the morning, you help us get the suit back,” Steve replied. He spread his hands. “And then you get the hell out of Peter Parker’s life.”

Harry winced, a little, and looked down again. “Yeah, that… that seems fair,” he mumbled. “Uh, so… you know I’m sick. Kind of have a disease that’s supposed to kill me before I’m thirty, and I… there’s medicine I take for it?”

“Right. Which room is yours?” 

Harry jerked his head, and Steve walked that way. Harry’s bedroom was clean, and gray. There was a silver mini-fridge beneath the desk, and when Steve did not spot a bottle of medicine anywhere else in the room, he walked over to the fridge and pulled it open. Sitting on the top shelf was a bottle of clear liquid, and a dropper. 

Steve examined the array for a moment, frowning to himself. What kind of sickness did Harry have, exactly? He reached for the bottle and the dropper, closed the fridge, and returned to the front room. He walked around the couch to stand in front of Harry, who eyed the bottle. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “I just take a full dropper in a glass of water.”

“A whole one?” Steve asked, genuinely surprised. 

“The dose was recently increased,” Harry explained. “Could I just take it, please?” 

“Yeah, hold on,” Steve said. He picked up the cup of water Harry had drank from, earlier, and carried it back to the kitchen. Bucky straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the counter, lifting an eyebrow at the bottle in his hand. 

“That’s… different,” he said after a moment, and Steve nodded in agreement, filling the cup with the jug of filtered water that was in the fridge. He then filled the dropper completely with liquid from the bottle, and put the whole measurement into the cup. The water instantly turned a dark green. 

“Gross,” he said, catching a whiff of the smell. 

“Yeah, that’s strong,” Bucky agreed, his own nose wrinkling. 

“Oddly, I don’t feel bad for him,” Steve said, and Bucky snorted. Steve carried the cup back into the living room, and handed it to Harry. He took it in his bound hands, and made a face, before exhaling and tipping the cup back, pouring the mixture into his mouth. Steve watched, frowning, brow furrowed. 

After a moment, Harry let out a gasp, and lowered the cup. It fell to the floor, rolling beneath the coffee table. Steve bent down to retrieve it, only to be sent into the wall beside the TV by a sharp kick to his abdomen. Steve hit the wall hard, and quickly rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself upwards with his hands. 

Harry no longer sat on the couch. At least, what sat there now did not _ look _ like Harry. The creature that was currently pulling against the duct tape around its wrists, snapping it easily apart, looked like… well, if Steve had to choose, he’d say a _ goblin._ It was green, and scaly, had long, yellowed nails. The only thing that gave him pause was the fact that it wore Harry’s clothing. 

“Guess it worked,” the goblin said, in a voice that could have been Harry’s, if Harry had been a smoker for upwards of fifty years and gotten part of his lung removed. It looked at Steve, and bared crooked teeth in a menacing smile. “Lucky for me.”

“What the hell -?”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” the goblin said, standing up and stretching its arms over its head. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

“Harry?” Steve managed, and the goblin grinned, winking one bright yellow eye. It then turned and made a break for the closest window. Bucky, however, had gotten there first, and threw his metal arm in the goblin’s path. The goblin slipped beneath it, easily, and then dove out the window, leaving nothing behind but the echo of a cackle and broken glass.

“What the _ fuck _was that?” Bucky demanded, running to the window and leaning out it. Steve joined him, and cursed. The thing was already out of sight. 

“I think… I think that was _ Harry,” _he said. Bucky raised both his eyebrows in disbelief. “We gotta go after it,” Steve decided, and he hurried to the door of the apartment, Bucky on his heels.


	26. Now This Is An Avengers' Level Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the stage... GREEN GOBLIN!! *Street Fighter(?) theme plays*

**October 2nd, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 1:17 AM**

Cheri yawned, widely, struggling to keep her eyes open as she flipped the page of the book that she’d brought along with her. For the last two or so hours, she’d been sitting in Peter’s bedroom while he dozed on and off in his bed. She’d suggested that she sit elsewhere to read, since she didn’t plan on getting any sleep, but Peter had insisted that he didn’t want to be alone, so she’d relented, and sat at his desk, reading by the lamp (helpfully dimmed by FRIDAY) that sat on the edge of it. 

Or, at least, she was trying to read. She didn’t think she’d actually paid attention to anything that had been on the page she’d just turned. 

Peter shifted on the bed, and she glanced over at him. His eyes were open. 

“I could go,” Cheri said, “if it’s the light bothering you.”

“No,” Peter sighed, sitting up and rubbing at his eye. “I just can’t sleep. There’s too much to think about.”

That, Cheri had to admit, was definitely the truth. She supposed that she shouldn’t try to insist that he get some more rest; Peter knew himself, knew if he’d be able to fall asleep or not. 

“All right,” Cheri said, and she set her book down on the desk. “I’m not really focusing on reading, either.”

Peter gazed at her for a moment, and Cheri could practically feel the question his eyes were asking in her bloodstream. She reached up, tugged on one of her curls, doing her best to pretend that she didn’t know what Peter was silently asking: _ There’s something wrong. Tell me. Please? _

“Pete,” she began, unable to keep it to herself any longer. She had to at least prepare him for it. “I, uh… there’s something we’re going to need to talk about, when all of this gets resolved.”

“Mm, that’s exactly what I want to hear when I’m already riddled with anxiety,” Peter said, his tone light and joking, probably in an effort to help her relax. “Why not just tell me now?”

“Because you need a clear head,” Cheri replied. “And so do I. It’s… it’s a conversation for when we don’t have anything else to worry about. Just… I’m telling you that I want to have it, now, so that I won’t be able to pretend that I didn’t bring it up at all, and avoid talking about it later on.”

Peter smiled a little, and she saw him relax. Maybe she was being too blasè about it. She knew that he thought it was really a joke, now. “You’re telling me so that I’ll remind you about it, and force you into the conversation?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Cheri sighed. “You’ll do it, right?” 

He nodded. “Sure, unless I forget about it, too.”

“It’ll be a lot easier for both of us if you don’t,” Cheri said, quietly, in order to convey that this was not, in fact, a joke.

Peter’s smile fell, as he finally seemed to realize that she was being serious. “Okay,” he said, his own voice evening out. “I’ll bring it up, when this is all over.”

“Thanks,” Cheri said. She felt better, now, knowing that she wouldn’t have an excuse for not telling him about her history with SHIELD. That weight off of her chest, she stood up and walked over to the bed, crawling across it towards where he sat. 

Peter’s smile returned, and he reached back, adjusting the pillows so that he could lean against them, sitting up. Cheri made herself comfortable next to him, her head resting on his chest. She listened to his heart beating beneath her ear, and closed her eyes, waiting for her own breathing to synchronize with his. 

“I wish we were home,” she whispered after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh, really?” Peter asked. “Because I was going to suggest we take a vacation once this is over, to stay away from the apartment for a little while.”

Cheri cringed. Of course he would feel that way, after everything. No doubt he didn’t think the apartment was a safe space for him anymore. 

“Sorry,” she murmured. “That was selfish of me. We can stay away from the apartment for as long as you need to.”

Peter’s arms, which he’d wrapped around her, tightened their hold for the briefest moment. “Thanks,” he said. “Just, I don’t know, until it’s clear, until we know that there’s nothing there that could take me back to where I was.”

“Right, that makes sense,” Cheri agreed. “I should’ve realized that you didn’t want to go back there.”

“We might even have to move,” Peter sighed, “since Harry pays for half the rent on our current place.”

Cheri swallowed, and buried her face into his chest. “God,” she said, softly. “This is really going to change everything, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Peter admitted with a quiet sigh. “Unless you and Ned start pitching in rent money, we might need to look for a cheaper place.” 

“We could probably stay with my mom for a little while,” Cheri said after a moment of silence. “I don’t - I won’t be able to have a job while I’m student teaching.” 

“Right.” Peter shifted slightly beneath her. “It’s all right, we’ll figure it out.”

Someone knocked on the door, then, and Cheri sat up at once, startled. Peter was slower to respond, but he did lift himself off of the pillows, resting one hand on her arm. Reassurance that everything was going to be fine. Cheri forced herself to relax a little. 

“Yeah?” she called out, and the door opened. Tony walked into the room, looking disarrayed, the top three buttons of the shirt he wore undone. Cheri blinked at him. “What’s happening?”

“Something bad,” he said, and he waved his hand, gesturing for them to follow him as he walked out of the room again. 

Cheri exchanged a glance with Peter, whose expression had changed into one she’d seen before. His eyes were hard, his mouth set in a grim line. It was the face he made when he knew that something serious was about to happen. 

“Guess we better go see,” she said, and she slid off the bed, heading out of the room ahead of him. Peter followed close behind. 

They walked into the living room to find that Tony had awoken Ned, too. Their friend looked mildly asleep, still, but he also straightened up a bit when he caught sight of them. Cheri sat down on the couch next to him, while Peter stood behind it, hands braced on the top. Bruce and Natasha sat on the other couch, Bruce’s gaze on Tony, while Nat examined the StarkPad she held on her lap. 

“Widow, status on Falcon,” Tony said, pacing in front of the large screen that was currently turned to a news program. The footage on the screen was being filmed live, and Cheri stared in shock at the destruction it displayed. Cars turned over, lights of police vehicles flashing red and blue. A traffic light had been pulled out of the ground and lay toppled over in the middle of the intersection. A newspaper stand had been tossed through the windows of a storefront. Under the glow of streetlights, the mess looked harsh and sharp. 

“That’s Midtown,” Cheri said, under her breath. She looked at Tony. “What the hell is going on?” 

“Natasha,” Tony said, his voice hard. 

“Wilson’s on his way back,” Natasha responded, her own tone significantly calmer. “He has the suit.”

Cheri felt Peter’s change in stance, and when she glanced back at him, she saw that his expression had shifted, slightly. He looked relieved. Almost at once, however, his superhero face returned, and he looked at Tony. 

“Mr. Stark?” he asked. 

Tony pressed his palms into his eyes for a moment. “Harry Osborn, or… the thing that he turned into, is terrorizing Manhattan,” he said. 

“The thing he turned into?” Ned demanded, fully aware, now. “What does that mean?” 

“Rogers gave him a liquid that Harry said was his medication. After he drank it, Steve said he turned into a _ goblin,” _ Tony told him. “His word, not mine. The thing’s got super strength and speed, and apparently, a knack for running around and causing mayhem.” He waved a hand at the screen for emphasis. 

“We have a location?” Peter asked, walking around the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. 

Tony glanced at him, and Cheri saw the exact moment that he realized that Peter was involving himself, despite the fact that he’d just spent the last twelve hours recovering from a pretty serious drug high. 

“No,” Tony said, all the same, and he looked at Natasha again. “Any word from Cap or Barnes?” 

Natasha nodded. “They’re near Columbus Circle, dealing with an overturned city bus,” she said. 

“We need eyes on the thing that turned the bus over!” Tony exclaimed. 

“They weren’t going to just let those people wait for help to come, Tony,” Bruce said, quietly. 

“Yeah, well, while they’re playing first responder, more people are getting hurt,” Tony said sharply. He cursed, and stripped off his shirt, revealing the Under Armor he wore beneath it. The arc reactor glowed on his chest. 

“I hope you aren’t planning on going after Harry alone,” Cheri said, blinking at him. 

“What choice do I have?” Tony asked. “Wilson’s not here, and that means he can’t help. Peter can’t either, not in his current state. It’s up to me.”

“Let me go with you,” Cheri said, standing up, and Peter spun around, gaping at her. 

“What the hell are you even _ saying?” _ he demanded. 

Cheri ignored him, keeping her eyes on Tony. “I can shoot. You need me.”

“Not to fight this one,” Tony told her, his suit forming around him. He left the helmet off, and pointed at her. “You need to stay, make sure _ he _ doesn’t come after me once he has his suit back.”

“Of course I’m coming after you once I have the suit,” Peter exclaimed, whipping around to face Tony instead. “Harry’s _ my _ problem.”

“He became everyone’s problem when he started to attack the city,” Tony told him. “Stay here. Nat’s going to have me on the comm; I’ll keep you updated. For right now, I’m just going to be trying to find him, anyway.” He glanced at the screen. “Not that that should be too difficult, considering the path of destruction.”

“Tone, this isn’t a good idea,” Bruce said, standing. “Wait for Sam.”

“The longer I wait, the worse this gets,” Tony said, pointing at the screen. “Waiting gets us _ nowhere.” _

“It keeps _ you _ safe!” Bruce retorted. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with.”

Cheri blinked. “No,” she said, and she looked at Peter, who glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. “But we know someone who might.”

“Oh, shit, Norman Osborn,” Ned exclaimed, hopping up. He then looked down at himself, blanched, and muttered, "I should get dressed," before hurrying out of the room. 

“What are you thinking?” Peter asked Cheri, frowning. 

“Obviously Osborn has to know something about what’s going on with Harry,” she explained. “Whatever this is, it’s got to have something to do with Harry’s disease. If anyone knows about any weaknesses that whatever Harry turned into has, it’ll be his dad.” 

“And you think he’s going to offer information willingly?” Tony demanded. 

“His son is destroying Manhattan!” Cheri exclaimed, gesturing sharply towards the screen as she pulled out her cell phone and fumbled through her contacts, trying to find the one that she’d earned several years ago, when she and Harry had had a brief stint as a couple while in high school. She found it, and looked at Tony. “We need to find out what he knows.”

“He took Peter’s suit,” Tony said, darkly, and Cheri nodded. 

“I know he did,” she said, “but we need his help.”

Tony stared at her for a moment, and then he looked at Peter, his shoulders falling. “What do you think, Pete?” he asked, quietly. 

Peter looked between the two of them. Cheri lifted her eyebrows, waiting. Finally, Peter exhaled a breath. “Call him.”

Cheri tapped the screen, and raised her phone to her ear. It rang once, twice, three -

“Hello?” 

“Mr. Osborn,” Cheri said, relieved that he’d actually answered. “It - I haven’t spoken to you in a while, I know, but I think we both understand why I’m calling you now.”

“It’s about Harry,” Osborn said. 

“Yes. What - do you know what’s going on? What did he - I mean…” She let out a breath, set her jaw. He needed to take her seriously in order for this to work. Rambling was not the way to get him to speak to her. “Explain, now.”

“And what, you’ll send your boyfriend out to stop him?” Osborn grumbled. 

“Well, no, he’s a little too weak for that, right now,” Cheri retorted, “because of your doing, if what Harry told us is true.”

Osborn did not speak for a moment. Cheri glanced sideways at Peter, saw that he stood nearby, shoulders tense. He met her gaze, and Cheri looked away again. “Well?” she prompted. 

“You know that Harry’s always been sick,” Osborn began. “We didn’t know with what, for a very long time, until the symptoms grew… extremely bad. His rashes were all over, he was angry all the time. It took me a lot of money to find a doctor that was able to help him, who could bring my son back.

“When we began to consider going after Spider-Man’s suit, I knew that we needed to take some form of precaution, for a scenario where the people around Peter Parker didn’t prove to be completely obtuse, and they understood that Harry had something to do with what was wrong with him. I returned to that doctor, and asked him to produce a sort of… anti-serum, something that would reverse the solution that he'd created for Harry’s sickness in an instant.”

“And that’s what he drank, that turned him into… whatever’s terrorizing the city,” Cheri finished. 

“Yes,” Osborn sighed. He sounded very tired. “I didn’t - the plan was for him to use it to escape, and immediately come back to my penthouse, so that we could get the serum into him, turn him back. I suppose the side of Harry that’s remained dormant since he began to use the serum returned when the anti dissolved it. Whatever’s causing all this destruction isn’t my son, Cheryl, you must realize that.”

Cheri pursed her lips. “I might have believed it, before I knew that he willingly drugged his best friend in order to steal something of his,” she said. “We need the serum, then, is what you’re saying.”

“If you plan to stop him, the serum is the only way to bring Harry back,” Osborn replied. The unspoken other choice of stopping the creature hung in the air, and Cheri chose to ignore it for now. “If you want it, I can give it to you. Someone will need to get it into the goblin.”

“The goblin,” Cheri repeated, refraining from rolling her eyes. “Right. Someone will come to get it, and we’ll deal with this.”

“Cheryl,” Osborn said, and Cheri waited. “Just - don’t hurt him, if you can avoid it,” he said, quietly. “He is still my son. Still your friend.” 

“Well, unfortunately, I doubt I’ll be the one dealing with him directly,” Cheri said, and then she lowered the phone, ending the call before she could think twice. She looked around at everyone in the room, excluding Peter, who no doubt had been able to hear Osborn’s side of the conversation. 

“There’s a serum,” she said. “It can be given to the thing, and Harry will… come back, I guess. Osborn’s willing to give it to us.”

“Great,” Tony said, beginning to walk away. “I’ll go get it, find the thing, and it’ll be dealt with.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, hurrying forward. “Don’t - let me help, please.”

Tony stared at him for a second, then looked past him towards Cheri. She lifted her shoulders, slightly, and Tony returned his gaze to Peter. The kid’s eyes were clear, and searching, serious. 

Tony rested a hand on his shoulder. “Stay here,” he said. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Mr. Stark -”

“I’ll be on the comm,” Tony said, directing it towards Natasha, and then he jogged from the room without another word. Peter stared after him, his shoulders falling. Cheri took a step forward, reaching out a hand and placing it on his shoulder. 

He shrugged her off, and turned, walking around her back towards his suite. Cheri watched him go, despair settling into the pit of her stomach. 

“Fuck,” she mumbled, to herself. 

Ned returned, then, dressed and looking raring to go. He glanced around, and blinked in confusion. “What - aw, dammit, I missed the dramatic phone call, didn’t I?” he sighed, looking at Bruce, who smiled a little, despite everything. 


	27. A Communication Log

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a communication log transcript.

**October 2nd, 2023 - COMMUNICATION LOG - FILED AS STARK-COMM/10-02-23…/**

**[VOICES IDENTIFIED: NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER; ROBERT.B.BANNER; JAMES.B.BARNES; STEVEN.G.ROGERS; ANTHONY.E.STARK; SAMUEL.T.WILSON]**

**[BEGIN TRANSMISSION - 2:24 AM]**

[PEOPLE SCREAMING; UNIDENTIFIED] 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** Jesus Christ, Stark, where _ are _ you? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** Just, y’know, dodging street fires, people who don’t seem to be capable of following police instructions. Why aren’t all these people at home in _ bed, _ for God’s sake? [GUN FIRE] Oh, y’hear that? That’s where I’m going.

**JAMES.B.BARNES: ** Wait, is Stark _ by himself? _

**NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **Affirmative. He said there was no time to wait for Falcon. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Goddammit, Stark, I was fifteen minutes out! 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Fifteen minutes too slow. [SCREAMING; GUN FIRE] Shit, there it is. 

**ROBERT.B.BANNER: **You see him? [SILENCE] Tony, talk! Keep us informed. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **Shit, Buck, we might need to get to wherever Tony is. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Negative; a tracker’s in place. I just have to get the serum from Osborn, and then I’ll use it to track the thing’s location. [GUN FIRE] If the NYPD doesn’t kill it first. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Location, Stark. I’ll head over to you, keep an eye on the green one while you play delivery boy. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Uh… I dunno, Falc, 56th and 3rd, 4th, 5th…

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **All right, all right, I get it. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Widow, could I get a location for Norman Osborn’s place of residency, please and thank you? Sending the tracker info to you, Falc. You too, Rogers, I guess, if you feel like actually participating this evening. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** Screw you, Stark, we had _ injured people _ to help. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **If you’d been the slightest bit more suspicious and/or careful when it came to Harold, we wouldn’t even have this issue on our hands. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **The kid has a debilitating illness. How could I know that his dad would be messed up enough to willingly have an anti-medicine prepared that would turn him into a destructive green goblin?

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Instinct? 

**ROBERT.B.BANNER: **Boys, concentrate. He’s still tearing up Manhattan. You can argue about what went wrong once he’s no longer a problem. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **I’m surprised Peter’s not on the comm. 

**NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **He disappeared into his suite right after you left. Cheri went after him. I sent the location of the penthouse over to FRIDAY. 

**F.R.I.D.A.Y.: **Received. Establishing fastest route by air travel. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Thanks. The sooner we can get our hands on the serum, the sooner we can end this thing, and hopefully put this whole mess behind us. And if Peter hasn’t reclaimed his suit, where is it? 

**ROBERT.B.BANNER: **It’s with us. I figured you wouldn’t want him to have it, just in case he decided to play hero himself. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** Not gonna lie, his specialty of shooting things with webs and making it hard for them to move would be _ spectacularly _helpful right about now. You guys will see what I mean. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **Then maybe we could use his help? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **He’s still recovering. Cheri said he’s lost a lot of weight from not eating, and I don’t know where his reflexes are, yet. Bruce needs to give him the green light before I’m letting him touch the suit. Not to mention that we need to make sure the thing wasn’t fucked with while with the Os-nerds. 

**ROBERT.B.BANNER: **Peter could probably do that himself. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Not while there might still be drugs in his system. There might be something he doesn’t catch, and if that leads to him getting hurt… well. I can’t have that on my conscious, too. 

**NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **ETA, Stark? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **About five minutes, if traffic isn’t bad. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **Let us know when you have the serum in-hand. We’ll try to drive the goblin towards you. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** Jesus, could we _ stop _ referring to it as a fucking goblin? 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **What would you call it, then? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **I don’t know; a booger monster. Those are green, right? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Why can’t we just call it ‘Harry’? 

**ROBERT.B.BANNER: ** Because it _ isn’t _ Harry.

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **I have to agree with Doc. I saw the thing up close and personal, and it most definitely is not the kid I’d been interrogating five minutes before. It’s like… his inner demon, or something, however, stupid that sounds. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Which is very. 

[GUN FIRE]

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **Whoa! What the hell is going on?

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **I think, if it were happening to anyone else, we’d call it police brutality. 

[LOUD CRASH; GLASS SHATTERING]

**JAMES.B.BARNES: ** _ Fuck. _ Steve? Steve!

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **[coughing] I’m fine. [panting] Holy shit. 

**NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **What’s happening, boys? 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **The booger, inner demon, green goblin thing knocked down the north facing wall of a building to get away from the cops. Steve got caught in it. 

**STEVE.G.ROGERS: **I’m all right, just wasn’t expecting it. 

[FAINT YELLING; BABY CRYING]

**STEVE.G.ROGERS: **Dammit. I have to help these people, Buck. 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Fine. I’ll go after Greenie. How far out are you, Sam? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Maybe twenty minutes, but it keeps moving, so ETA keeps changing. 

[GUN FIRE]

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Shit! 

[CRASHING]

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Well, uh… we might have expenses to pay, for the Museum of Modern Art. Goblin just took out three statues. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Tell them they can put it on my tab. I’ll pay for it myself. 

**NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **Iron Man, location? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **About to knock on the window of Norman Osborn’s penthouse. Yeesh, who chooses to live with all that animal print everywhere? 

[KNOCKING ON GLASS]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Hey, anybody home? I’m here to collect a package that’s going to save Manhattan? 

[PAUSE]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Welp. 

[GLASS SHATTERING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Did you just break into the penthouse? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **No one answered the window, and I’m on a bit of a time crunch. 

[GLASS CRUNCHING; HEAVY FOOTSTEPS ON WOODEN FLOOR]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** Dear God, this place is _ overly _ posh. I’m kind of feeling sick from all the geometric patterns.

[GLASS CRUNCHING]

**UNKNOWN.UNKNOWN: **Jesus Christ! 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Oh, hey, Norm. Can I call you Norm? Name’s Tony Stark; I think your kid knows my, uh, Resident Kid Figure? 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: ** I didn’t expect you. Why - you _ broke my window. _

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **To be fair, your son is destroying Manhattan, so. You got the serum? 

[PAUSE]

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **Yes. Come with me. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Mm, no, I don’t think so. How about I stay here, and you bring it to me? You’re not taking me to no secondary location. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **[softly] Jesus Christ, Stark. 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **[flatly] Fine. Wait here. 

[GLASS CRUNCHING]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **I wasn’t going to let that slip by me. 

[PAUSE]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Uh… anyone there? I.M., phone home?

[PAUSE]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **[muttered] Shit. F.R.I.D.A.Y.?

**F.R.I.D.A.Y.: **It seems that the suit’s connection to the comm channel has been interrupted by a network block, boss. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Network block? What - uh-oh.

[METAL GRINDING; CRASHING; GLASS CRUNCHING]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** [grunts] [spits] What the _ fuck? _

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **Funny, I’d thought you would have known about Oscorp’s interest in research projects that help to improve the city. 

[METAL GRINDING; CRASHING]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **[groans]

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **It seems this was not one of those projects that’s listed for public knowledge. Fantastic. 

[METAL GRINDING; CRASHING; GLASS SHATTERING]

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **What’s the problem, Stark? Can’t get your feet under you? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **[weakly] You bastard. Your son is destroying the city! 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **That creature is not my son, and I will not have you exposing any information that indicates that it may be to the public. Goodnight, Mr. Stark. 

[CRASHING]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **[groans] 

[SILENCE]

**[END TRANSMISSION - 2:49 AM]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big 'It Gets Worse!' vibes with this one.


	28. Spider-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's here to help.

**October 2nd, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 2:12 AM **

Cheri sat on the edge of the bed in Peter’s suite, watching as he paced across the room, back and forth, for at least the eightieth time. 

“Peter,” she said, quietly, willing him to look at her. He did not. “Will you please just talk to me?” 

“What is there to talk about?” Peter asked, hotly. “I should be out there, helping stop whatever it is that Harry turned into, and I’m _ not. _That’s all there is to it. 

Cheri released a breath. “I know you feel that way,” she said, “but there are too many things that could go wrong. Your reflexes might be shot, you’ve lost weight, and who knows what they managed to do to your suit in the time that they had it?” 

Peter snorted. “I can fix the suit,” he said. “This is about Mr. Stark not wanting anything else to happen to me, because he blames himself for everything that does, when in reality, anything that happens to me is usually my own fault.” 

Cheri continued to gaze at him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she finally asked, and Peter stopped pacing. He turned to look at her, eyes dark. 

“Get me my suit.”

“Peter -”

“No, you want to help, get it for me,” he said, stopping her before she could even formulate an argument. “I need to be out there, Cheri. Everything that's happening in Manhattan right now directly has to do with my actions over the last month. It should be my responsibility to stop it.”

Cheri still looked as though she wanted to argue, and Peter quickly crossed the room, kneeling on the floor in front of her. He wrapped his hands around her calves, lifting his eyes to meet hers. 

“Listen to me,” he said, quietly. “I _ need _ to do this. I’ll never forgive myself if I can’t get there in time to help. You know that I’m not overexaggerating, or being dramatic. You _ know _ that I have to go. You get it.” 

Cheri’s eyes darted between his, red with tears. “Yes,” she said, softly, reaching out and cupping his face with her hand. “I get it.” 

“So _ help me,” _ Peter said, and he knew he was begging, even if he didn’t need to be. _ “Please, _ Cheri.”

She gazed at him for a moment longer, and then she inhaled sharply. “What if there’s something wrong with it?” she asked. 

“I’m not talking about the one that Osborn took,” Peter told her. 

“There’s a different suit?” Cheri asked, blinking, and Peter smiled. 

“You have no idea.”

He explained to her what she needed to do. Cheri, who prided herself on being able to follow instructions to the letter (unless she recognized a better way of completing the task), repeated them to herself as she walked out of his suite, and headed towards the elevator. She took it down two floors, to the level where all of the different labs coexisted with one another, and walked down the hall to Peter’s, which Tony had gifted to him on his 18th birthday. 

She examined the keypad next to the door for a moment, and then carefully typed in the passcode, smiling to herself as she hit first the 3, and then 1 and 5, and finally the 2. The light turned green, the door unlocked, and she stepped into the lab, being careful not to touch anything as she made her way towards the center of the room. 

Lights in the lab clicked on, alerted to an organic presence, and she stopped walking, glancing around. The place was kind of a mess, which she found amusing, considering how disorganized Peter’s bedroom had been the first time she’d visited the apartment. The boy did not know how to keep things straight. 

“Vocal recognition required,” a voice that, oddly enough, was’t FRIDAY, said, echoing through speakers built into the ceiling. 

Cheri exhaled, hoping that Peter hadn’t been kidding around. “Treble Clef,” she said, as clearly as she could. 

“Welcome, Cheri,” the voice said, and a monitor appear in front of her. “Do you need help finding something?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Cheri said. “Peter said he’s been working on a new suit? The… Mark IV?” 

“Would you like to open files on the Spidey Suit Mark IV, or would you like to access the suit itself?”

“Uh, the suit itself, please,” Cheri replied. 

“One moment.”

Beyond the monitor, which had brought up a 3D animated image of the suit that currently spun while data ran down the screen beside it, the wall parted. Cheri walked around the monitor towards the opening wall, and blinked, watching as a mannequin came towards her, moving along a track built into the floor. The mannequin wore the suit. Cheri had to admit that it was an improvement from the Mark III, which was currently in Nat and Bruce’s possession. She reached out, and blinked when she realized that the suit had to be made of the same thing as Tony’s.

“Nanotech,” she murmured, and shook her head to herself. “Fucking geniuses and their costumes.” She reached out, and gently tugged free the small black spider emblem from the mannequin, just as Peter had told her to. Immediately, the suit around it scattered to invisible pieces. 

Cheri stepped backwards again, holding the joint containment and power unit in her palm. There was no point in trying to understand the technology, so she slipped it into her pocket. “Thanks, voice that isn’t FRIDAY.”

“Karen,” the AI responded, helpfully. “You’re welcome, Treble Clef.”

“What a fuckin’ sap,” Cheri mumbled to herself with a smile, jogging out of the lab and back towards the elevator. 

She pressed the button, and a few moments later, it arrived. She started to walk into it, as the steel doors parted, but had to take a step back as Bruce walked out of it instead, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. He tilted his head, looking her over, and Cheri knew that the jig was up. 

“He’s planning on going, isn’t he?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Cheri admitted, quietly. “He said that he won’t be able to forgive himself if he doesn’t, and I know that he isn’t making that up. He’s too selfless, and he thinks that this whole thing is his fault, which… kind of? But don’t tell him I said so.”

Bruce let out a quiet laugh. “Well, truthfully,” he began, “I was a bit upset with the way Tony brushed him off. I know that Peter is more than capable of helping. He’s already much more alert than he was three hours ago, which I would say means that his body, once not bogged down by the drugs, was able to flush them out much quicker.” 

“So he’s good? Cleared, from a medical perspective?” Cheri asked, and Bruce smiled. 

“I’d say so. And if Tony asks, tell Peter that he can talk to me,” he said. 

Cheri let out a breath of relief, and without thinking about it, hugged Bruce around the waist. He patted her on the back, still smiling, and then tilted his head towards the elevator. “Now, go on,” he said. “Peter’s got a city to save.”

Cheri dodged around him into the elevator, pressing the button for the correct floor. Bruce watched the doors close, and let his shoulders fall, before shaking his head to himself with a small snort. “To be young and full of energy again,” he murmured, and then wandered towards the lab, to check on the results from the candle diagnosis.

Cheri made it back to Peter’s suite, and found Ned in there already, sitting at the desk with two computer screens in front of him, both glowing. She smiled to herself, and turned to Peter, who was watching her, eyes eager. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out the spider emblem.

“Here you go,” she said, handing it to him. “And Doctor Banner said that if Mr. Stark wants to know anything about your status from a medical perspective, he can talk to him.”

Peter grinned, and ducked into the bathroom, taking a change of clothes with him. Cheri looked at where Ned sat at the desk. “Guy in the Chair?” she guessed. 

“Trademarked!” Ned said over his shoulder, a wide smile on his face. “I was able to get into Mr. Stark’s tracking system that he put on the goblin; right now, it’s at Park and 51st.” He made a face. “God, I really hope it leaves the Chipotle that’s there alone.”

“Focus, Ned,” Cheri said, leaning next to him to look at the screens herself. 

“Right, sorry,” Ned said. He handed her a small black earpiece, which Cheri slipped on. “I’ve created a private channel for the three of us, one that none of the others are part of. We’ll probably use it until Peter gets close to the others, and then I’ll switch us over to the main comm line, so that he can announce his presence with some witty remark.” 

“Right, obviously,” Cheri said, very carefully rolling her eyes without letting Ned see. 

The door to the bathroom opened again, and Cheri turned towards it. She blinked, and felt her neck grow uncomfortably warm as she took Peter in. 

The spider emblem rested in the center of his chest, just as it did on his other suit. The suit itself, red and blue in all its nanotech glory, hugged his lean frame in all the right places. As such, Cheri could probably trace the creases of all his muscles with her finger. Or her tongue. Whichever came first. 

Much like Tony had earlier, Peter had left the head of the suit off for now. He grinned a little, and spun in a small circle, holding out his arms. “Pretty good, right?” he asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Cheri said, turning away at once. “Looks fine, I guess.”

Peter smirked, and walked over to the two of them, looking between the two computer screens. “I’m trusting you to get me there, Ned,” he said. 

“Ah, as if you don’t have a GPS feature built into the thing,” Ned said, scoffing. 

Peter offered Cheri a sheepish expression, and she smiled slightly, turning away again. Peter sensed her change in mood, and he gripped her arm gently, pulling her away from the desk. He searched her eyes for a moment. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” he finally said, deciding that was what she needed to hear, whether or not she believed it. 

“I hope so,” she murmured. “Just… I know we’re pissed at him, but… try to remember that that thing is Harry, somewhere deep down, all right? And keep yourself safe.” 

“Mm, only two requests,” Peter said, and he grinned. “I think I can handle that.” 

Cheri rolled her eyes, openly this time, and leaned up, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Peter hugged her back, pressing his face into her curls for a moment, letting his senses be completely overtaken by _ Cheri. _ Her hair smelled like her shampoo, still, even though he knew she hadn’t washed it since the morning before. Her skin was soft as he moved his head, brushing his nose over her cheek as he adjusted their positions to rest his forehead against hers. He could hear her heartbeat, quicker than his own, not odd considering how frightened she had to be. Her eyes glittered with tears, although he knew that she wouldn’t allow any to fall, not while he still remained in the room. 

“I’ll be all right,” he murmured. “And I’ll do everything I can to make sure that Harry is, too, okay?” 

Cheri nodded, and Peter tilted her head a bit more, so that he could kiss her. She tasted just as he’d hoped she would, like cherries and patience. Like a complicated five part harmony, and the trails of shooting stars. Things that he had inherently associated with her, in some way.

He pulled back, and Cheri inhaled the breath that they shared between them. “You better come back okay,” she murmured, meeting his eyes, “because I’m going to need you to explain how you managed to get a vocal sample of mine so that I could be let into your lab through voice recognition.”

Peter grinned. “I’ll tell you, I promise,” he said, and then he stepped away from her, tapping the spider emblem on his suit, so that, hopefully, Natasha wouldn’t notice anything and stop him. The suit disappeared, and he looked between Cheri and Ned. “Let’s do this.”

“Good luck, Spider-Man,” Ned said, saluting him. 

“Be safe, Pete,” Cheri murmured. 

Peter nodded, and then he jogged out of the room. Cheri glanced at her watch: 2:32 AM. Peter would reach Manhattan in maybe thirty minutes, if he went about as fast as he was capable of on a good day. She hoped that they had that much time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two finals today, and yet here I am, posting two chapters of relatively good length. I'm a champ.


	29. Another Communication Log

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's another communication log transcript, with special guest star Green Goblin!

**October 2nd, 2023 - COMMUNICATION LOG - FILED AS STARK-COMM/10-02-23.../**

**[VOICES IDENTIFIED: NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER; ROBERT.B.BANNER; JAMES.B.BARNES; STEVEN.G.ROGERS; SAMUEL.T.WILSON]**

**[BEGIN TRANSMISSION - 3:14 AM]**

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** Dammit, Stark, _ status. _

**ROBERT.B.BANNER: ** His comm is _ down, _ Steve. Yelling about it isn’t going to bring it back up. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** It’s been down for closing in on thirty minutes; there’s something _ wrong. _Sam, I need you to get to Osborn’s penthouse, figure out what happened to Tony. 

[CRASHING; GUNS FIRING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Sorry, Cap, just a little preoccupied at the moment. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** _ Falcon. _

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** _ Steve. _I’m trailing the goblin, and I’m not about to lose sight of it in order to play hide-and-seek with Iron Man. He can handle himself. 

**NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **Osborn’s penthouse could also have a comm block installed in it. He could have been cut off after passing a certain point in the building. A lot of people have invested money in things like that, for security purposes.

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **None of you are getting the point I’m trying to make. Even if there was a comm block, Tony should have moved away from it by now. How long does it take for a serum to exchange hands? 

[CRASHING; SCREAMING; GUNS FIRING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Oh, hey, Buck. Good of you to join. 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Bite my ass, Sam. Where’d it go? 

[HOLLERING; WHOOPING; CRASHING]

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Ah, there it is. 

[CACKLING; SCREAMING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Hey! Put the man down, Greenie! 

**UNKNOWN.UNKNOWN: **[faintly] Help! Help me! Somebody, please!

**UNKNOWN.UNKNOWN: **London Bridge came falling down, falling down, falling down…

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Nursery rhymes. Really? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **This thing belongs in a shitty horror movie. 

[SCREAMING]

**UNKNOWN.UNKNOWN: ** [snickers] Whoopsies. Best catch that, Sergeant! We don’t want it to go _ splat. _

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **[grunts] 

[SHRIEKING]

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **It’s all right, I got you. Get out of here, go. Sam? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Thing’s - [grunts] fucking dodgy. It’s like fighting the Spider-Guy all over again. 

[CACKLING; WEB WHIPPING; SCREECHING]

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** I can’t believe you’d even _ consider _ comparing me to this thing. I’m actually offended. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** _ Peter? _

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Wow, Cap, you’re real lucky that everyone on the comm knows who I actually am. 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **The hell are you doing out here, kid? 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Oh, y’know. Just thought I’d swing by, see if the party was worth joining.

[HISSING]

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Man, Harry. I know that you were never better looking than me, but at least you beat out Ned. Now, though… not so much. 

**UNKNOWN.UNKNOWN: **Tsk, tsk, Peter Parker, you must realize that I’m not exactly your friend Harry. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Thanks for confirming that for me. Now I don’t have to feel so bad when I _ kick your fucking face in. _

**UNKNOWN.UNKNOWN: ** No more clever wit? Is the Itsy Bitsy Spider _ tired? _

[WEB TEARING]

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Shit! 

**UNKNOWN.UNKNOWN: **Come along, then, Spider-Man! Finish what you started! 

[CRASHING]

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** Peter? _ Peter! _

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **They’re out of sight, Steve. Went in through a window on the Oscorp building. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** Fucking - we need that goddamn serum. Falcon, Buck, go find Stark, _ now. _

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **What about the kid? 

[PAUSE]

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **He’ll be all right. Go. 

**[END TRANSMISSION - 3:31 AM]**


	30. Fight Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the battle of the ages. Aside from the whole thing the Avengers had with Thanos, and, Loki, and Ultron...  
Okay. It's Spider-Man's battle of the ages. Aside from his fight with Vulture. And Mysterio. And...  
It's Spider-Man versus Green Goblin. FIGHT!

**October 2nd, 2023 - Oscorp - Broadway & W. 54th St., New York, NY, USA - 3:37 AM**

Peter’s head hit the floor of a room on the Oscorp building’s forty-fifth floor with a sharp crack. He cursed, and quickly rolled out of the way before the goblin could punch him again, swinging himself up into a standing position and quickly shooting a web towards the ceiling, to get himself out of harm’s way. 

“Come down here,” the goblin hissed, glaring up at him, “and fight like a _ man.” _

“I can’t convince you to come up here and fight like a spider?” Peter queried, flipping out of the way. The chair the goblin had hurled at the ceiling bounced off of where Peter had been, and landed with a crash on the floor. “Guess not.”

Peter shot a web in the goblin’s direction, and managed to get its hands tangled up. The goblin cursed, and struggled to free itself while Peter quickly scurried across the length of the ceiling and swung down onto a shelving unit, shooting another web. This one caught the goblin’s feet, and it toppled sideways to the floor. 

Content, Peter fired one last web, trapping the goblin’s whole body to the floor, and then he hopped down from the shelf. 

“Well,” he started, “to be honest, with the mess you’ve caused around the city, I expected you to be a lot more of a challenge.” 

“You have no _ idea, _ insect,” the goblin growled, writhing beneath the web that encased it. 

Peter tilted his head, and spread his hands. “Seems pretty obvious to me.”

He turned away as Steve’s voice came to him through the suit’s communication device, crackling a bit. The building must’ve been out of range for a clear connection._ “Parker, status.” _

“I’d say that our friend is effectively trapped,” Peter replied. “Where’s the serum?” Steve did not respond for a moment, and Peter frowned. “Cap?”

_ “We aren’t exactly sure,” _ Steve finally said. 

“What do you mean, you aren’t sure?” Peter asked, doing his best not to panic immediately. “I thought that was where Mr. Stark was going first.”

_ “It was,” _ Steve agreed, _ “but, apparently, something went wrong.” _

“Like what?” Peter asked. 

_ “We aren’t positive yet, but Bucky and Sam are on it,” _ Steve assured. _ “Just sit on our guy until we can get to you.” _

Peter inhaled. “Let me know when you have it,” he said. “And… when you know if Mr. Stark’s okay.” 

_ “Of course.” _

Just as Peter started to turn around to face the goblin again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he was able to duck in time to avoid the thing’s claws as it leapt at him, freed from the web. He spun around, shot a web, but missed, the goblin hurrying away from him, towards the window that they’d crashed in through. 

Peter blew out a breath, and went after it. The goblin scaled the building, reaching a window on the next floor up. It punched through, and disappeared back inside. Peter hurried up the wall, and ducked into the new floor after it. He landed on his feet, finding the room dark and empty on the inside. Still, his senses were going haywire, and he quickly whipped around, shooting an electric web into the goblin’s face as it jumped towards him. 

The goblin shrieked, and landed on the floor, writhing. Peter switched back to his plain web shooter, and distributed more around the prone creature, trapping it for a second time. 

“Don’t move this time,” he said, “or you’ll get another one.”

The goblin cursed at him. “Why don’t you take the easy way out?”

“Because I’m not a murderer,” Peter responded, “and somewhere in there is one of my best friends.”

“You mean the best friend who _ drugged _ you for weeks?” the goblin taunted, leering up at him. “The best friend who allowed his father to knock you out, and steal your most precious material possession? The best friend who _ willingly _ turned himself into a monster, just so that he wouldn’t have to face what he’d done to you?”

Peter’s fists clenched, and he had to take a moment to steady his breathing. He’d promised Cheri that he wouldn’t hurt the thing more than he had to. It was still Harry, he reminded himself, even if the goblin was right, in the things it said about his friend. Harry _ had _ drugged him, _ had _ allowed his father to leave him vulnerable in an alley somewhere in the city, after taking his suit. Harry _ had _ turned himself into the creature that had destroyed a piece of Manhattan, and was now taunting him, urging him to do further damage to it. 

He wouldn’t, though. It shared Harry’s body, his mind, and Peter wanted to believe that he could still get his friend back, after all of this was over. Their friendship would never be exactly the same, but… Harry hadn’t killed him, and so Peter would return the favor. That seemed only fair. 

“Not to mention what he planned to do to Cheri.”

Peter’s head turned towards the goblin again. It blinked up at him, yellow eyes wide and innocent. “Oh, you don’t know about this part?” it asked, feigning surprise. 

“Stop talking,” Peter ordered, taking a step closer. “Now.”

“But don’t you want to hear what Harry had in store for Cheri, once you were out of the way?” the goblin queried. 

“I don’t want to hear _ anything _ from you!” Peter exclaimed. “I have no reason to believe anything you say!”

“Other than the fact that Harry and I are one in the same? My thoughts are his, and… currently, his thoughts are mine,” the goblin said. It bared its teeth in a wicked grin. “So?”

“No,” Peter muttered. “No, keep it to yourself. I’ve made up my mind.”

The goblin sighed. “Pity,” it said. “You would have liked to hear about it, I think. Such nice plans, all to help a grieving girlfriend with the loss of her boyfriend.”

“Harry didn’t want me dead.”

“Mm, that’s only what you want to believe,” the goblin mused. “Because you’re a _ good _ guy, Peter Parker. Harry Osborn? Not so much. I’ve lived within him his whole life. I’ve witnessed every dark thought, every temptation. I’ve seen him do some very bad things, Spider-Man. Harry’s a _ bad _ guy.” The goblin stared up at him. “Don’t you stop the bad guys? Isn’t that the path you’ve chosen for yourself?”

“Stop it,” Peter mumbled. 

“Don’t you want to make sure that Harry can’t do anything bad to you, ever again?” the goblin insisted. 

“Stop it.”

“Don’t you want to make sure that he won’t hurt Cheri, or Ned? Don’t you want to get back at him, for what his father is doing to Tony Stark as we speak?” 

_ “Stop it!” _

Peter turned before he really knew what he was doing, and kicked the goblin directly in the face. The force of the blow sent the creature shooting out of the web it had been trapped beneath, and the goblin wasted no time in retreating out the window, its vicious cackle trailing after it. 

“Shit,” Peter cursed, and webs emerged from both shooters. He used them to pull himself across the room to the window, and then he latched onto the building itself, peering upwards. He spotted the gobin already three stories above him. It glanced down at him, and winked. It actually _ winked. _

_ Okay, _ Peter thought, starting up the building. _ Shouldn’t have kicked it. _

The goblin worked its way around to the south side of the building, reaching the floors closer to the rooftop before it crashed its way inside again. Peter began to feel as though it were toying with him, leading him somewhere that he most definitely did not want to go. 

He couldn’t just let it get away, however. He needed to keep an eye on it, until someone got to him with the serum. Wherever the thing was leading him would have to be his destination, if only so that Peter wouldn’t lose the goblin, even if he did not want to see where their path led. 

He moved into the building again through the window that the goblin had broken through. On the other side, the room was lit up, a large wall of monitors before him. A giant terminal sat beneath it, three different keyboards glowing invitingly. 

Peter ignored them, and looked around for the goblin. It didn’t seem to be in the room, and his senses were relaxed, for the most part. His hands twitched to get onto the terminal, examine whatever secrets the database those monitors were hooked up to held within it. 

_ No, _ he scolded himself, closing his hands and facing away from the monitors. _ Focus, Peter. _

His communication device crackled to life: _ “Peter? You there?” _

“Ned,” Peter said, relieved. “Where’s the goblin?” 

_ “I don’t know,” _ Ned said. _ “The tracker went dead as soon as the two of you crashed into the Oscorp building. It took me forever to get our comm line up again. The building’s on its own private network, completely off the grid.” _

“And you broke in?” Peter asked. “Nice.”

_ “Ah, it was nothing,” _ Ned responded easily. _ “Is it still in the building with you, at least?” _

“Yeah, it brought me to a room with a big wall of monitors connected to a terminal,” Peter responded. “I think there’s something it wants me to find, but I don’t know if I want to find it.”

_ “If you could get me patched in somehow, I could go looking for you,” _Ned suggested. 

Peter glanced towards the terminal again. Did he even want to know? This was Oscorp; what sorts of things were on their network that he would need to see? 

“No,” he said. “I don’t… I don’t think it’s anything important. It probably just wants to distract me.”

_ “All right,” _ Ned replied after a moment of silence. _ “Your call.” _

“Yeah,” Peter murmured, more to himself than to Ned. He stared at the terminal for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “It brought up Cheri.” 

“Ah, the ol’ “the girl you love or the city” schtick?” 

“I think that’s where it was going, yeah,” Peter said. “I didn’t give it the chance. I really wish villains would stop using that, it’s so overdone.” He sighed. “I’m gonna keep looking for it. If you could try and find out what’s up with Mr. Stark, that’d be helpful.”

_ “Got it. Go get ‘im, Spider-Man,” _Ned said encouragingly. 

Peter turned away from the terminal again, and looked once more around the room. He spotted an air vent dangling open, on one wall, and pulled himself via webs to it, ducking inside. It was a bit of a tight fit, but he could pull himself along comfortably enough, following the airway path to another open vent. This one dropped down into a different room, and Peter hopped out of the vent onto the floor, landing lightly. 

He stood, slowly, and looked around. This room was dark, and he wondered where the goblin planned to take him, now that he hadn’t given in to looking at the filing system on the terminal in the last room. 

“Hey!” he said, speaking up, and turning in a circle. The room was empty, aside from a conference table and the chairs around it. “I don’t want to play games anymore, Goblin. Come out.”

“Okay,” replied a cheerful voice, and Peter barely dodged out of the way of the table as it flew upwards and towards him. He landed sideways on the wall, and found the goblin laying on the floor, looking bored. It glanced at him. “I just wanted to see if you could find me. Hide-and-seek isn’t your best game, though, I take it.”

“No,” Peter said, jumping down from the wall. “I prefer a game called ‘Seek and Destroy’.” 

“Mm, fun!” the goblin exclaimed, hopping to its feet. “How do you play?” 

“It’s probably easier to just give a demonstration,” Peter said, and he fired a web at the goblin, yanking it closer to where he stood. He then sent a sharp punch into its jaw, and flipped around, landing a kick against its chest. The goblin staggered backwards, and Peter alternated between web shooters, securing the creature to the wall behind it. 

“That seemed oddly like cheating,” the goblin growled. 

“You’d think so, but taking down your enemy is actually the whole point of the game, so I guess I won,” Peter responded, shooting one last web for good measure. “Are you actually going to stay put this time?” he asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it. 

The goblin chuckled darkly. “I guess it may be time for me to tell you about _ my _ favorite game,” it said, and Peter cocked his head to the side. 

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

“Pass the Bomb!” the goblin replied, gleefully, and Peter barely had time to register that his senses were going insane before the room exploded.


	31. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic.

**October 2nd, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 3:54 AM**

“Shit,” Ned muttered, throwing his hands down on the desk with a loud _ slap. _ “The fucking comm line went down again.”

As he said this, Cheri heard Natasha curse from the living room closest to Peter’s suite, and she immediately ran out of the room itself to see what was happening. She came to a dead stop when she saw what was on the large projection screen. 

Three floors of the Oscorp building were burning, the scene shot from an aerial view via a news helicopter. Cheri’s heart felt lodged in her throat as she stared at the flames, silently urging Peter to emerge from the building, maybe a little charred, but safe. He didn’t, and she turned towards Natasha. 

“What’s going on?” 

“A bomb went off, apparently,” Natasha responded, furiously typing at the laptop that rested on the coffee table in front of her. “Was Peter still inside?”

“Of course he was!” Cheri exclaimed. “That was where the fucking goblin was!” 

“Shit,” Natasha sighed, and she reached up, touching her earpiece. “Rogers, come in. There’s a problem at the Oscorp building.”

_ “Already saw,” _ Steve’s voice replied through Cheri’s own earpiece. Fuck, she loved Ned and his scarily adept tech skills. _ “I’m heading there now. I don’t know how I’m going to get up there, though. Can you find out if any of the staircases are blocked?” _

“I’ll do my best,” Natasha replied. “It looks like the explosion only affected those three floors, but who knows how quickly the fire will spread. I’ll probably be able to get you to the floor directly under the lowest one that’s burning, if you move fast.”

_ “I can do that,” _Steve said. Cheri hurried back into Peter’s suite, found Ned typing fiercely at his own keyboard. 

“Did you hear?” she asked, breathless, and Ned nodded. 

“I’m trying to get Peter’s location,” he said. “If the suit’s working, then so’s Peter.” He cursed, loudly. “Why the fuck does the fucking Oscorp building have to have so many fucking blocks on its private network?” 

Cheri tried to swallow, found that she couldn’t, and slowly sank down onto the foot of the bed, staring at the floor. She thought she could recognize that she was experiencing the beginnings of a panic attack, and tried to remember where she’d learned the symptoms from. 

_ Tony. _ He’d given her a list of them, when she’d started working for him. _ “Just as a precaution,” _ he had said. _ “Y’know, in case it happens to me, and you have no idea what to do. Everyone’s different, but for me, I just need to be reminded to breathe, count to three, hold it for four, exhale for five. Usually works pretty well.” _

Cheri closed her eyes, focusing on the instructions he’d indirectly given her, that second day she’d worked for him. Inhale for three seconds, hold the breath for four seconds, and then let it out for five seconds. She could do that. It was just counting. Just like playing an instrument. One… two… three. One… two... three... four. One… two… three… four… five. 

_ Yes, _ she thought, already feeling her heart steadying, her mind beginning to stop racing. _ Thank you, Tony. _

“Cheri!” 

She heard Ned’s voice, a bit foggy, but she opened her eyes all the same, and looked in his direction. She had to blink, in order to clear the blurriness from her vision. The wavy edges of her friend became solid, and he gestured frantically, before pointing to his computer screen. 

“Mr. Stark’s comm is back online!”

Cheri let her eyes fall shut again, breathing out a sigh of relief. Tony. He’d be able to get to Peter faster than anyone else. She just hoped that he had the serum with him, too.


	32. He's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're gonna get in trouble. Hey la, hey la.

**October 2nd, 2023 - COMMUNICATION LOG - FILED AS STARK-COMM/10-02-23.../**

**[VOICES IDENTIFIED: NATALIA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER; ROBERT.B.BANNER; JAMES.B.BARNES; STEVEN.G.ROGERS; SAMUEL.T.WILSON]**

**[BEGIN TRANSMISSION - 3:40 AM]**

[GLASS CRUNCHING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** Jesus. _ STARK! _You up here?

[GLASS CRUNCHING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Shit. Cap, Buck? I got blood up here in the penthouse, a whole crap-ton of it. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **Goddammit, I knew that something had gone wrong. We should have gotten to him sooner. Bucky, where are you?

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Ground level. The floor’s abandoned, which means there’s no one around to tell me if Osborn came out this way. Looks like the elevator’s down.

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **Be careful, Sam. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Yeah. 

[GLASS CRUNCHING; SHIFTING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** Place _ is _ posh. 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **Ah, another one. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Hey! Where’s Stark? 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **Sleeping off his failure. Would you like to join him? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** What the hell is that _ thing _ on your hand? 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **I use it to deal with intruders. I could show you how it works, if you like. My son helped invent it. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** Your _ son _ is terrorizing Manhattan. I saw him throw a man out a twenty-story high window. Don’t make me ask again; where is Tony Stark? 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **I already told you. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Where’s the serum, then? Someone’s gotta end this thing, and I’m willing to go looking for it without your help. 

[CRASHING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** _ What the hell are you doing? _

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: ** [pants] Can you _ all _ fly? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **I think I should be the one asking you questions, like: why the hell are you trying to punch me with your giant metal fist? 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **Ah, this isn’t mine. Harry helped design it for an associate, and I’m borrowing it.

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** Like you borrowed Spider-Man’s suit? I gotta tell you, man, the last time we had to tangle with a dude with a metal fist, no one was very happy with the outcome, _ plus _ we had to kill the guy. 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **Different circumstances. This is only for precautionary measures. I won’t use it unless I have to. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** … you _ literally _just tried to hit me with it. 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **What’s going on up there, Sam? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **If you want things to end with the least amount of trouble, you’ll tell me where Stark is, and you’ll give us the serum, then we’ll be on our way to deal with a problem that you had a hand in starting.

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **That’s my point. I can’t give you the serum. I can’t involve myself in anyway. The reputation of my company would be destroyed. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON:** What about _ Manhattan? _

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **Manhattan can be rebuilt. There is no coming back from this for me or my family, if everyone finds out that that creature is inhabiting my son. 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **Sam! Do you need me to come up there or not? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** You’ll let your son destroy the city, let us… kill him, because that’s what’s going to have to happen, if you don’t hand over the serum, for the sake of your _ reputation? _ What the hell kind of father _ are you? _

[CRASHING] 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **A bad one. 

[SHOUTING; CRASHING; GLASS SHATTERING]

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: ** Where did _ you _ come from? 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **What do you mean? I was just waiting to make a dramatic entrance. Thanks for the lead-up to my line, by the way. I know you weren’t really planning on it happening, but it was real helpful. 

**ROBERT.B.BANNER: **[sighs] God, Tony. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **You’re a pain in the ass. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Yes, I am.

[GLASS CRUNCHING]

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **[moans]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Where’s the fucking serum, Osborn?

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **[spits] It’s locked in a safe, behind the portrait of Harry and I. The code is Harry’s birthday. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Which is? 

**NORMAN.V.OSBORN: **[huffs] October 12, 2000. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **That wasn’t so hard, was it? Sam? 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **On it. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Hey, Cap? What’s the status on the green thing? 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **It’s… being dealt with. Good to hear your voice, Tony. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Yeah, sorry about that, got a little preoccupied with some… electrical errors. What do you mean, being dealt with? 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **I mean what I said. Someone’s on it. 

[LOUD EXPLOSION; SCREAMING]

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: ** _ Shit! _

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** What the _ fuck _ was that? 

[SILENCE]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** _ Steve? _

[SILENCE]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Barnes, do you have eyes on Cap? 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **No, I’m - holy shit. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Goddammit, somebody say something! 

**NATASHA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **Rogers, come in. There’s a problem at the Oscorp building. 

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **Already saw. Heading there now. I don’t know how I’m going to get up there, though. Can you find out if any of the staircases are blocked?

**NATASHA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **I’ll do my best. It looks like the explosion only affected those three floors, but who knows how quickly the fire will spread. I’ll probably be able to get you to the floor directly under the lowest one that’s burning, if you move fast.

**STEVEN.G.ROGERS: **I can do that. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **What’s happening at the Oscorp building? Why does Steve need to get to the burning floors? Someone fucking explain!

**NATASHA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **The Oscorp building was the last known location of the goblin. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **And the person who was ‘dealing with it’, I’m guessing? 

**NATASHA.A.ROMANOVA-BANNER: **Yes. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Son of a bitch. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **Stark, I have the serum. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **We have to get to the Oscorp building, now. 

**JAMES.B.BARNES: **There’s kind of an issue on the ground level, boys. Could use some help directing people. 

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **Fine. Give me the serum, you help Barnes. 

**SAMUEL.T.WILSON: **You’re okay?

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: **I guess I have to be. 

[SILENCE]

**ANTHONY.E.STARK: ** That kid is _ so _ getting his laboratory privileges taken away for _ several _ months.

**[END TRANSMISSION - 3:56 AM]**


	33. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a fire. Spidey's caught in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the penultimate chapter, holy shit!

**October 2nd, 2023 - Oscorp - Broadway & W. 54th St., New York, NY, USA - 3:56 AM**

Everything was on fire. At least, that was what it smelled like, felt like. Peter couldn’t see, but he _ could _ breathe, although the filtration system in his suit seemed to be malfunctioning, because there was smoke getting in his mask, making his eyes burn. 

Coughing, he blindly reached out, and began to crawl his way forward, moving slowly. Darkness, still, even after moving about two feet. He kept going, slow and steady. He was very aware that the majority of the nano-particles on the suit’s legs were gone, could feel the brush of flames against his skin, feel pinpricks of shattered wood from the conference table digging into his knees as he crawled. 

More darkness. He crawled another foot, pushing more rubble out of the way, coughed again. Darkness. At least his mask was still working properly. Unless it wasn’t, which would explain why he couldn’t see. 

Without letting himself think, he reached up with his left hand, and tugged at the nano-particles on the left side of the mask, pulling enough free to uncover his eye. He had to blink in the sudden light that came with it, his senses flooded with all sorts of new information. 

The room _ was _ on fire. He had crawled in the direction of the windows, either because of fate or his internal ability to avoid danger, and was now only five feet away from the shattered glass on the floor. He grunted, and kept crawling, doing his best to forget that if he wasn’t careful, his identity might be exposed to the next person to see him. 

His senses tugged at him, and he hissed, flipping onto his back just in time to kick the goblin away from him as it leapt at him through the flames. The goblin landed maybe ten feet away, in a pile of rubble from the ceiling. More collapsed in the heat of the fire, and landed on top of it. The goblin shrieked and scurried out of the smoking rubble, brushing burning bits of drywall off of its arms. 

Its eyes found Peter, who’d turned back over and continued crawling while it dealt with the rubble. It growled, low in its throat, and dove for him again. Peter rolled out of the way, blearily, and the goblin skidded to a stop in front of him, hitting the wall beneath the window. Peter tried to fire a web, but his web shooter must have been affected by the blast because no web emerged from it. 

He cursed, lowly, and struggled to his feet. His legs shook, but he closed his fists, and charged towards the goblin. The goblin had just enough time to look astonished before Peter made impact with it, and sent them both tumbling out the window. 

Yelling, Peter twisted his body in the direction of the building, grabbing for the back of the tattered shirt that the goblin wore at the same time. The impact he made with the side of the building, maybe five stories down from the window he’d sent them through, jolted him back to life, let him know that he was still breathing. He planted his feet and his left hand, and clung to the building, holding the back of the goblin’s shirt tightly in his right hand. He honestly couldn’t believe that that had worked. 

The goblin jerked in his hold, and Peter clenched his teeth, willing whatever was left of Harry inside the creature to stop struggling, because if he didn’t, Peter would most assuredly drop him. The muscles in his arms felt ridiculously tight, and the heat from the fire that licked at him through the shattered windows did not help matters. Sweat dripped down his forehead into the eye that was no longer covered by nano-particles, and he blinked furiously. 

“Drop me!” the goblin shouted above the sound of the roaring flames, above the sound of the helicopter that was filming the whole thing from a safe distance. Peter looked down at where it dangled from his grasp, and thought he could see a flicker of fear in its yellow eyes. That fear had to be Harry. He refused to believe anything else. 

“I won’t,” Peter retorted, and tightened his grip on the back of the goblin’s shirt. His legs quivered, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as he felt himself slip a bit. 

“Spider-Man!” 

His eyes flew open. He looked around, desperate, searching for the source of the familiar voice. He spotted Steve leaning out of a window maybe a story up, ash smeared across his face. 

“Can you get up here?” Steve called down to him. 

Peter shook his head. “No!” he shouted. “Not one handed!”

Steve looked frustrated. Peter knew that he would not ask him to drop the goblin, but he also knew that it was the clearest option for them, at the moment. 

“Fine,” he finally said. “Give me thirty seconds to get down to you.” 

“No need.”

Peter almost jumped at the new voice, and turned his head in the other direction. He breathed outwards in relief, seeing the Iron Man suit hovering ten feet away from where he clung to the building. Tony flew closer, grabbed the goblin from him. 

“Go,” his mentor ordered, and then flew off, holding the goblin in one gauntleted fist. The goblin twisted and turned, thrashing at the Iron Man suit. Peter watched, following their movements until they reached the rooftop of a building across the street. He saw Tony throw the goblin down, hard, and then land next to it. After that, he lost sight of them, and he cursed to himself, but made his way up to where Steve still leaned out the window. 

The captain helped haul him into the building, and Peter had to take a moment, crouched on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. 

“You all right?” Steve asked, and Peter managed a nod, coughing. He spat on the floor, not really caring, since his mouth felt as though it were filled with ash, and he staggered back to an upright position. Steve reached out to steady him, and it was only then that Peter felt the pain in his right arm. He grabbed for it, teeth clenched. 

Steve furrowed his brow, and gently took his arm in both hands, turning it slightly. Peter gasped, and Steve made a face. 

“Pretty sure it’s broken,” he said, glancing up. 

“Shit,” Peter managed, lifting it towards his chest and holding it there. “It’s going to heal itself, and then it’ll have to be re-broken, because it probably isn’t set properly.” He shook his head. “We can’t worry about it right now. We have to get to Mr. Stark - he’s alone with the goblin.”

“He had the serum,” Steve told him, even as Peter stumbled towards the nearest staircase. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I’d rather not take any chances,” Peter responded, pushing the door to the staircase open with his left shoulder. 

**Broadway and W. 53rd St., New York, NY, USA - 4:08 AM**

The goblin glared at him as Tony landed next to it. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble,” he said. 

“As intended,” the goblin retorted calmly. 

“Right,” Tony said, flatly. He held up the small bottle that Sam had handed him, in Osborn’s penthouse. “I think playtime’s over though, don’t you?” 

The goblin crawled back several feet, face screwed up with pain. Tony felt no remorse, although he imagined that once Harry was back, he would be in even more agony. Not that he much cared about that either, honestly. 

“Here, take your medicine,” Tony said, walking towards it, and the goblin growled. 

“You won’t trap me inside this child’s mind,” it warned. “Not again.”

“Believe me, if I could eradicate you entirely, I would,” Tony said, “but for now, this is going to have to do. Don’t make me force you; it’s been a long night.”

And it had been. The faintest first signs of sunlight were beginning to appear in the distant East, and he suddenly felt the exhaustion that came with a sleepless night full of zero rest. He planned on sleeping a solid twelve hours, once they were done here. Once they turned Osborn over to the authorities, and made sure that damages to the city were going to come straight out of Oscorp’s accounts. Funnily enough, the Avengers were not responsible for the destruction, this time. Tony honestly hadn’t expected that to ever happen. 

“Come on,” he said, bringing himself back to the present. “I don’t want to have to hit you again, because I don’t know how your injuries are going to translate onto Harry, and I really don’t want to be up on a roof with a screaming kid.”

“No,” the goblin retorted, shaking its head. “I won’t. I won’t be shut away again, like a dirty little secret.” 

“You’re the side effects of a pretty serious disease,” Tony told it, although he understood enough at this point to recognize that the goblin was more than that. This was Harry’s dark half, the part of the kid that could come out whenever he was left long enough without medication. The goblin _ was _ Harry’s illness. 

“I am my own being!” the goblin shouted. 

Tony was over the conversation. He walked towards the goblin, grabbed it by the tattered remains of the shirt it wore, and lifted it into the air. He shoved the bottle of serum into its face, and muttered: “Take the fucking serum before I shove it down your throat.”

“Mr. Stark, stop!” 

Shoulders tense, Tony turned, and saw Peter haul himself over the edge of the rooftop, grunting. He was clearly in a lot of pain, but he stood up to his full height, gesturing with his left hand. “Put him down.”

Tony huffed, but dropped the goblin back to the rooftop. Peter approached, taking the serum from him, and Tony walked away a few feet, frustrated. He turned to watch whatever Peter decided to do. 

Peter crouched down next to the goblin, who did not meet his eyes. It kept its gaze fixed on the rooftop. 

“Harry,” Peter said, quietly. “Harry, c’mon. I know you’re in there, somewhere. You can fight this, I know you can.”

“He’s too far gone, Parker,” the goblin growled at him. “There’s no point. Let me be.”

“Harry,” Peter insisted. “Come on. Fight it.”

The goblin twitched, and Peter leaned back just in time to avoid a clawed hand to his exposed eye. 

“Don’t you _ get it yet, _ Spider-Man?” the goblin shrieked. “This _ is _ your friend! This is what he always has been, and what he always will be, somewhere, serum or no serum! He’s a destructive force, deep down! Why would you want him back?” 

“You just said it,” Peter said, calmly. The goblin gaped at him. “He’s my friend.” 

Without waiting any longer, he jumped forward, grabbing the goblin’s right wrist and holding its arm to the rooftop. The goblin thrashed beneath him, shouting insults and clawing at his side with the hand that was not trapped. Peter did his best to ignore the pain as he pulled the stopper out of the bottle with his teeth. He then let go of the goblin’s wrist in order to grab its head, and forced the bottle into its mouth, upending the serum down its throat. 

The goblin gave him a final smack that sent Peter flying several feet across the rooftop. He lay there, winded, and Tony started towards him, even as the goblin stop moving quite so wildly, and then came to a complete stop. 

“Pete?” Tony asked, worried, and Peter peered up at him through his left eye, which was squinted in pain. 

“Did it work?” he asked, weakly. 

Tony turned his head towards where the goblin had been. Skin no longer green and scaly, hands returned to normal, albeit a bit dirty and scratched, and shirt in tatters, Harry lay on the rooftop, unconscious, but breathing. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, looking back at Peter again. “It worked.”

Peter let out a relieved gasp, and let his head fall back onto the rooftop, his eye closing. Tony had to sit down himself for a moment, and just breathe. 

When he was sure he could speak without his voice quivering, he did so, to the comm line: “The green guy’s back to his normal pasty self.” 

_ “Good job, team,” _ Steve’s voice said. _ “Let’s get the final steps out of the way, and head home.” _

For once, Tony agreed with Steve’s orders, without offering up any type of argument. He nudged Peter with the back of his hand. “You good to go?”

Peter offered a quiet grunt of confirmation, which dissolved into soft, hysterical giggles almost immediately. Tony, unsure as to what could possibly be amusing by this situation, sighed outwards. 

“What’s so funny?”

Peter snorted, snickered a moment longer, and then gasped out, “My arm fuckin’ _ healed itself, _but it still hurts.”

“And you’re _ laughing _ about that?” Tony demanded. 

Peter nodded weakly, opening his left eye and glancing at him. “Also, uh… I might have stolen some of your nano-tech schematics,” he admitted. “I don’t think I made them as strong as I should’ve, though.”

Tony gazed at him for a moment longer, before his shoulders fell. “We’ll work on it together,” he said, eyeing Peter’s suit. It definitely needed some repair time in the shop. “I should get Harry out of here, and to the Compound, so that Bruce can check him over.”

“Right,” Peter agreed. He grunted as he forced himself into a sitting position, and glanced over at his friend. “He’s in worse shape than I am.”

“Well,” Tony said, getting to his feet, “he did just spend the last three or so hours wrecking Manhattan.”

“True,” Peter agreed. He watched Tony walk over to Harry, pick him up. “Hey, Mr. Stark? What happened when you went to get the serum from Osborn?” 

“Oh, he hooked the suit up to some sort of machine, tried to drain power from it,” Tony replied, shaking his head. “I had to get it back.” 

Peter made a face, and Tony knew that he’d have to explain it all in more depth, once things were squared away. “We’ll talk more later,” he said. “Get back down to the ground, once you’re able, and reconn with Cap and the others. They’ll get you back to the Compound, so that Bruce can take a look at your arm, too.”

“Okay,” Peter said. “And, Mr. Stark? Let Cheri know that I’m all right. My comm’s down, and she’s probably freaking out.”

Tony smiled a little. “Knowing Cheri,” he said, “she’s probably waiting for you to get back, so that she can smack you upside the head for worrying her.”


	34. Respite and Restoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone takes a second to breathe and talk.

**October 2nd, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 5:12 PM**

Cheri was the first person Harry saw when he woke up. She’d intended it that way, assuming that she’d probably be the most friendly face out of everyone in the Compound. Apparently, she’d assumed wrong, because Harry reacted violently, jerking sideways and almost falling from the bed he lay in, in the medic bay of the Compound. 

“Hey, no, Harry, relax,” Cheri said, not moving from her chair. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re actually lucky that I offered to be the one to sit here and wait for you to wake up. Mr. Stark wanted to let the police take you. Or someone from a psychic ward.”

Harry stared at her, eyes wide, breathing rapidly. “You knocked me out!” he exclaimed. 

“I did,” Cheri agreed with a nod. “But that was only because you were trying to get away, and we couldn’t let that happen. You drugged Peter, and you had information that we needed.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “And so, what, the SHIELD part of you wasn’t able to do its job, and you had to send the two beefcakes instead?” 

Cheri let out a quiet breath. “How do you feel?” she asked, making the choice to ignore the insult. “One of your legs is broken, and you have some pretty serious burns on your chest and arms.” She made a face, halfway between sympathy and disgust. “And, uh, your nose.” 

Harry slowly shifted back to the center of the bed, examining the IV in his hand, and the bandages wrapped around his midsection. His eyes found the cast around his left leg, and he winced, seeing how thick it was. Finally, he reached up, and touched the bandage taped over his nose, and he sighed to himself. 

“I think I’m all right,” he said, lowering his hand, “considering.”

“That’ll be the morphine,” Cheri agreed with an exhalation that may have reflected relief. She settled back in her chair. “I guess it’s only fair that I tell you all this now. Oscorp is being sued by Stark Industries. Your father not only stole Peter’s suit, but he also tried to copy technology from the Iron Man suit, when Mr. Stark went to get the serum to bring you back. Some government group is also investigating the company, searching for any written signs of involvement in the destruction of Manhattan. For now, the money going towards rebuilding things that you ruined is coming straight out of the funds Oscorp gets for research projects.” 

“What - uhm… how bad is it, exactly?” Harry asked, sounding as though he didn’t really want to know the answer. “I mean, I don’t remember any of it, so I just -”

“You don’t remember terrorizing the city?” Cheri clarified, interrupting, and Harry shook his head. “What about fighting Peter in the Oscorp building?” 

“None of it,” Harry said, glancing down. “I - when I drank the anti-serum, I was supposed to head to my dad’s penthouse, to let him change me back, but I guess… I guess the goblin had its own plans.”

Cheri’s shoulders fell as she studied him for a moment, brow furrowed. “It’s not very good, Harry,” she finally said, and he glanced down at his leg again. 

“I - did anyone get hurt?” 

“Yes,” Cheri said, not seeing any reason to lie. “A lot of people. You overturned a bus, started fires… you even threw a guy out a window, but Sergeant Barnes caught him before he hit the ground. No one died, though, so.” 

“I didn’t - it wasn’t _ me, _ doing any of those things, it was the _ goblin,” _ Harry insisted. “You get that, don’t you?” 

Cheri stared at him for a moment, before she exhaled and looked away. “Do you need anything? Water or… I don’t know, are you hungry?” she asked. 

“I - I guess I could use some water,” Harry murmured, and Cheri nodded, pushing herself up out of the chair and walking over to the counter against one of the walls. She got him a cup of water, and carried it back over to the bed. Harry took it in the hand free of the IV. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Cheri said, backing away. “I uh… I guess I’ll let you rest.” 

She started towards the door of the room. Her hand had landed on the handle, when Harry said her name. She glanced over her shoulder towards him. “If - whenever Peter’s ready, could you ask him to come see me?” 

“I’ll let him know you want to talk to him,” Cheri said with a nod, and she ducked out of the room. The gun she had in the waistband of her jeans pressed hotly against her skin, and she pulled it out. She gazed down at the weapon for a moment, hand shaking. She was extremely relieved that she hadn’t needed to pull it out while in there with him. 

She slowly breathed inwards, and walked down the hall towards the room that Peter occupied, putting the gun back in the waistband of her jeans. She knocked lightly on the door, before pulling it open and slipping inside. She found him lounging on the bed, his arm, which Bruce had needed to break again and then cast resting across his chest. His eyes were closed, but as soon as she pulled up a chair next to the bed, they opened. His head turned, eyes finding her, and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. 

“Hey,” he said, softly. 

“Hi,” Cheri replied. Her throat felt uncomfortably dry. “How’re you doing?” 

“Oh, y’know,” Peter said. “I’m technically all right, now, but Doc’s right in saying that I need to rest in order to get back to my proper self. I could also probably eat five cheeseburgers, but knowing him, he’ll force feed me healthy stuff until he lets me leave.”

Cheri managed a smile at that. “Maybe I could sneak one up here for you,” she said. “Mr. Stark would probably be willing to help.” Peter chuckled, then grunted, shifting a bit. Cheri immediately frowned. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Peter said, still smiling. “I’m fantastic.” His eyes met hers. “Harry woke up, I’m guessing?” 

Cheri inhaled, and nodded. “He did.”

“You told him?”

“Everything,” Cheri replied. “He says he doesn’t remember anything after the goblin came out.”

Peter frowned. “Do you believe him?”

Cheri hesitated a moment. Harry had _ seemed _ genuine, in saying that he couldn’t recall attacking Manhattan, or fighting with Peter, but really, how much could she trust him, now? After he’d spent the last month or so drugging Peter on the orders of his father, who had been willing to let the Avengers _ kill _ him, just to protect his reputation. 

“I don’t know,” she finally said, truthfully, and Peter nodded in understanding. Cheri picked at her nails for a moment. “He… he said that he wants to talk to you, as soon as you’re ready.”

Peter glanced downwards. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I bet he does. I don’t - what does he think he’s going to say to me, to fix what he did?” Cheri lifted her shoulders, and Peter sighed. “I just… I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

Cheri swallowed. “About that,” she said, and Peter glanced up, an eyebrow raised. The gun was growing hot again. She adjusted in the chair. “That thing, that I said I wanted to talk to you about when everything was resolved?” 

“Oh. Right.” Peter thought about it for a moment. “Maybe when I’m allowed to leave this bed, we can talk.”

“Okay,” Cheri agreed. That would give her more time to plan out what she wanted to say to him. “Sounds good.” She held out her pinkie towards him, and Peter grinned, slipping his own around it. Cheri smiled back. 

A knock sounded on the door of the room, and they both glanced towards it as it opened. Tony stepped inside, and Cheri let their hands fall, unhooking her pinkie from Peter’s. 

“Hey,” Tony said. “Glad to see you’re awake. How’re you feeling?” 

“Fine,” Peter said, adjusting his position a little. “When do I get to eat something?” 

“Doc’s making a giant salad downstairs right now,” Tony said. “Complete with greens of all kinds, and a very low calorie ranch dressing.” 

Peter stuck out his tongue, and Cheri giggled, looking at Tony. “Harry’s awake,” she said. 

“Yeah, I saw,” Tony replied, gesturing towards the door. “I thought about going in to talk to him, but he looked like he was trying to get some more rest, so I decided to let him do that. His body went through a lot, earlier, even if Harry didn’t, necessarily.”

“He told Cheri that he wants to talk to me, when I’m ready,” Peter said. 

“Do _ you _ want to talk to _ him?” _ Tony asked, frowning, and Peter glanced sideways at Cheri, who lifted her shoulders. 

“No, tell me what you think,” Peter insisted, reaching out and touching her hand with his fingers. 

Cheri inhaled. “Just… I’ve known Harry since we were kids, and my mom first got a job with Oscorp. He was the first person I knew at school. I grew up with him, he protected me from bullies, and just... didn't...” She trailed off, brow furrowed, and then glanced between Tony and Peter. “I’m pissed at him, but I… I don’t think I can just drop him, pretend that he doesn’t exist anymore. He’s a huge part of my life. When we first moved out of Washington Heights and no one liked me very much because of my heritage, or the way I looked? He was there. He was the only one who didn’t call me mean names, tell me to go back to where I’d come from. He’s… he was just a _ good friend, _ for so long.”

She met Peter’s eyes, a forced a smile, seeing his concern. “But… if you don’t want Harry around anymore, I won’t…” She took a moment, trying to put what she wanted to say into words. “I’m with you on this,” she finally said, taking his hand between both of hers. “You’re the one who was hurt, and I love _you._ _You’re_ my best friend, Pete, so if he has to go, then he has to go, and I really don’t think he’ll be able to feel upset about it, considering what he did.”

Peter let out a breath, squeezing her hand gratefully. He then glanced down at his casted arm, and considered. Cheri had known Harry for much longer than Peter had. She knew him, and he wanted her opinion on whether or not Harry was worth it, and from what she’d said, it sounded as though she _ did _ think so, even if she was willing to go along with whatever Peter decided in the end. 

However, Peter thought Harry might be worth it, too, especially now that his father’s company was going to be ruined, and no doubt Norman Osborn would disown his son for partially being the cause of that, whether or not it was Harry’s fault. Harry would need someone, and he didn’t have anyone aside from Peter, Ned, and Cheri. Not that Peter knew about, anyway. And on top of that, since Harry had spent their years growing up making sure that Cheri had someone to go to… it seemed only fair that she was there for Harry now, when he needed her. 

Peter would not be the reason that Cheri couldn’t be there for her friend, no matter what Harry had done, for the wrong reasons. Harry was still Harry, after all, and it had taken him three years to act on his father’s behalf. Now that his father would most likely be out of the picture, it was incredibly likely that they’d get the Harry they knew back, and Peter didn’t think he wanted to lose _ that _ Harry. 

He looked at Tony again. “Yeah,” he said. “He’s going to need us, and I really don’t want to leave him alone, especially now.”

“Peter, you do know what he did to you, right?” Tony queried, and Peter nodded. 

“I do, and I know he did it for the wrong reasons, knowing that Osborn’s going to leave him behind while he tries to fix his reputation,” he said, “but that’s part of the reason why I don’t want to leave him alone. If Norman Osborn manages to get his feet back under him, and tries something else like this, I think I’d rather have Harry on our side, be able to remind him that we were there when his father was a shit head.”

Tony looked at the two of them for a moment, before he sighed to himself. “Fine,” he said. “You’re an adult, I trust you to make decisions like this. But if you’re wrong about him -”

“I’m not,” Peter said. “I know I’m not.”

“All right,” Tony said, shaking his head. “I believe you. You know Harry, you both do. I don’t know him at all.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s talk about Oscorp. Based on how much I’m suing them for, and Norman Osborn specifically, plus how much the _ city _ is suing them for damages, based on the evidence we’ve given them in support of Osborn having been responsible for the goblin… they’re going to be losing a _ lot _ of money.” 

Cheri’s grip on Peter’s hand tightened, fractionally. “I hope my mom doesn’t lose her job,” she said. 

“It’ll probably depend on how quickly the company can recover from everything, although without funding and support from the city to do research projects, I don’t know where a lot of their income will be sourced,” Tony admitted. “You can tell your mom she can come work for me?” 

Cheri smiled. “I would, but she’s not... inventive,” she said. “She was really more of a data analyst, at Oscorp, and if she _were_ to lose her job, I don't know if she'd want to do that again.” She offered Tony an apologetic look. “And she really doesn’t like you very much, for some reason.”

“Probably remembers me from my college days,” Tony sighed. “I was a shit.”

Cheri chuckled, and then exhaled. “I guess I’ll worry about it when we know what’s actually going to happen to Oscorp. For now, she still has her job, and knowing Norman, he’s going to bounce back from this as quick as he can.

“And you’re right,” she added, nodding to Peter. “It will be much better for everyone, including Harry himself, if he chooses not to go back to his father, if Osborn decides that he _ wants _ Harry back, once the whole mess is resolved, and he gets things relatively back to where they were.”

“I guess I have to admit that that _ does _ seem to be the best outcome,” Tony said. “I’m not going to argue, then, with your decision, because it _ is _ your decision, but… I do want you to know that if Harry messes up _ again, _ I’m not going to be so forgiving.”

“No,” Peter agreed, smiling slightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to be.” He forced himself into an upright position, grateful when Cheri placed a hand on his back to help him. “Do you think Doc would be mad if I came downstairs to eat?” 

“Probably,” Tony admitted, “but hey, he’s not the boss of you.”

“I think right now he kind of is,” Cheri said, frowning. 

Tony and Peter exchanged a glance, decided, “Nah,” at the same time, and Peter slid off the bed. Cheri rolled her eyes to herself, but all the same stood close to him as he followed Tony to the door. She paused next to Tony while Peter exited the room. 

“I will tell Doc that you encouraged him,” she said, and Tony grinned, nudging her with his elbow. Cheri had to smile back, even though she didn’t want to, and let Tony leave ahead of her. 

Peter paused next to the window showing into Harry’s room for a moment as the other two headed towards the elevator. He lay on his back, the only position he _ could _ lay in because of the cast on his leg, and his head was turned to the side. A crease existed between his eyebrows, and Peter could see fairly easily that he wasn’t sleeping. 

“Queens?” Cheri and Tony had both stopped at the end of the hall, looking back at him. Cheri tilted her head. “You coming?” 

“I… in a minute,” he said. “I want to talk to Harry.”

“Right now?” Tony asked, frowning. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I might as well.” 

Cheri and Tony looked at one another for a moment, before Cheri turned back to him. “Just remember that he’s on a lot of morphine right now,” she said. “He might not remember any of your conversation.”

“He’ll remember,” Peter said, slightly amused by how certain of this he felt. “I’ll see you in a bit. Save me a big ol’ portion of salad.”

“Okay,” Cheri said, smiling a little. She had to tug on Tony’s shirt sleeve to get him to follow her around the corner, away from Peter. 

Once they were out of sight, Peter knocked on the door of Harry’s room, gently, still peering through the window beside it. Harry’s eyes opened, first, and then his head turned towards the door. Peter opened it, and stood in the doorway for a moment. 

“Hey,” Harry finally said, swallowing. 

“Hey.” Peter gestured towards his leg. “How’re you doing?”

“I can’t really feel it,” Harry replied. He used a handle dangling from the ceiling to pull himself upright, and then reached behind him to fix his pillows, situating them so that he’d lean up a bit more. Peter noticed how skillfully he handled these tasks, no doubt used to them from how often he must have been in hospitals growing up, dealing with his sickness.

“You come in here to gloat?” Harry finally asked once he was situated. 

“No,” Peter replied, stepping further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Cheri said that you wanted to talk to me; I figured that we could maybe do it now.”

Harry lifted his chin in indication of Peter’s own cast. “What happened there?”

“Oh, uh, the goblin set off a bomb in the Oscorp building,” Peter replied. “We think I broke it at some point during that.”

“Ah,” Harry said. He looked ashamed. “Sorry.”

Peter sank down into a chair next to the bed, no doubt the one that Cheri had occupied while she’d waited for Harry to wake up. They sat in silence for a long moment. Peter was unsure whether it was because they couldn’t think of what to say, or because he was waiting for Harry to speak, first, while Harry was waiting for _ him _ to speak first. 

Thankfully, Harry had never been one to let silence linger for too long. “Peter,” he began, glancing at him. “I am… so, _ so _ sorry.”

“I know,” Peter said. 

“No, I - I really don’t think you do,” Harry insisted. Peter could hear the emotion in his voice, and he knew within a few seconds, Harry would be crying. He let out a breath, cheeks red. “It was all for my dad, y’know? The only thing I ever wanted was for him to _ like _ me, the way a dad should like his son, and I thought that helping him get your suit would do that. It was manipulative of him, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but I get it _ now, _ and if I could go back I would, but I _ can’t, _ and I’m _ so sorry.” _

Peter glanced down as Harry sniffled, and reached up to rub at his eyes. “I know,” he repeated. “Really, Harry. It - knowing what I do now about your dad, and how he reacted to the whole goblin situation, it’s like… I understand that he uses you to get what he wants, until it isn’t necessary for him, or it becomes inconvenient, and he drops you with zero issue. It’s fucked up, and no one should have to deal with someone like that in their lives, especially not their own father.”

Harry let out a choked sob, and Peter licked his lips. _"__I’m _ sorry,” he continued, lowering his voice, “that you felt like you had to do something like that to one of your friends, in order to get your father’s approval.”

“I shouldn’t even have done it in the first place, for his approval or not,” Harry managed. He sucked in a sharp breath; it rattled somewhere in his chest. “It was fucking stupid of me, to do something like that to you, to our friendship, just for the possibility that he might start treating me like I was worth his time. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

Peter raised his eyes again. Harry’s were red, and a tear lingered on the edge of his jaw. He quickly reached up and brushed it off, forcing a watery chuckle. “Anyway,” he started, sniffling again, “I get it, if you don’t want anything to do with me after all this. I’ll pack my crap, get out of the apartment, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Harry, that’s the last thing I would do to you,” Peter said. “You don’t have anywhere else to go, and I’m not going to disregard you like your father’s done your whole life. That isn’t what friends do.”

“But you shouldn’t want me around,” Harry insisted. He rubbed at his eyes again, this time with the crook of his elbow. “What I did was fucked up.”

“Yeah, it was, and then what followed was even more fucked up,” Peter agreed, “but the last thing I want to happen is for you to think that you need to crawl back to your dad, let him convince you to do something worse, try to convince you that that’s the way he’ll let you back in. I’m not going to push you away, because you’ll just end up right back where you were, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“So it’ll just be to make sure I don’t fuck up again,” Harry said, dryly.

“Partially,” Peter agreed. “But it’ll also be because I know you, Harry. The real you, the one who doesn’t let his father get to him, the one who can stand on his own two feet, who graduated as salutatorian, who wants to start his own company someday, who wants to help people, not hurt them.” He tried for a smile, and succeeded, marginally. “That’s the Harry that I want around, and if you’re willing to give it a try, so I am. So’s Cheri. And I haven’t asked Ned, but I’m sure he’ll be down, too.”

Harry gazed at him for a moment, lip quivering. Peter waited for his decision. 

Finally, however, the edges of Harry’s mouth raised in a small smile, and he nodded, a few times. “Okay,” he said, his eyes turning red with tears once more. “I - thank you, Peter. I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Peter said with a nod of his own. “That’s the whole reason I’m giving you the chance.” 

Harry let out a laugh, sniffling, and Peter stood. He rested the hand of his uninjured arm on Harry’s shoulder for a brief moment, squeezing just a little. 

“Everyone deserves at least two chances,” he said. “This is your second. Don’t waste it, all right?” 

“I won’t,” Harry assured. He shook his head rapidly. “I - I won’t forget this, Peter, really.” 

“You’ll have to thank Cheri, too,” Peter told him, beginning to walk away. “She’s part of the reason you’re getting this chance, because she truly believes that you’re a good person.”

“I’m not,” Harry said, softly. He met Peter’s eyes. “But… I’d like to be, someday.” 

Peter smiled again. “Well, maybe we can work on that together,” he said, and then he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Gonna take a two week break for the holidays, but then we'll jump into the second part of this three part epic. 
> 
> It isn't an epic, but I am EPICLY proud of it. 
> 
> Apparently 'epicly' isn't a word, but. 
> 
> I'll see y'all on January 6th. That's the 12th day of Christmas, in case you didn't know. It's also the birthday of a good friend of mine, the one who helped me write the 'It Gets Worse!' theme song. 
> 
> I'm gonna stop talking now. See y'all, and have a good holiday, whomever you may be.


	35. Restart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a new day, but the same problems still need to be resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping back in! Let's keep it going.

**October 7th, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 12:31 PM**

It took about a week for things to get relatively back to normal. 

Ned, who managed to become an adult very quickly when their place of residency was threatened, wasted no time in approaching Harry about his part of the rent of the apartment. 

Thankfully, Harry had been wise enough to transfer all of his trust fund money to his own private account the moment he’d turned twenty-one and was given full access to the account his father had created when he was born. This meant his part of the rent (which was the majority) would not be an issue for a very long time. Long enough that he’d have plenty of breathing room to find a new job. Currently, he was looking into a small, family-owned and operated development company that focused on eco-friendly plastics. Peter thought his future still lay in the creation of his own company, someday, despite Harry’s belief that his illness would kill him sometime in the next ten years. 

Aside from that, Peter was almost positive that Harry’s interest in the company came solely from the CEO’s daughter, a long-legged blonde young lady with gentle eyes who was “the kindest soul” Harry had ever met. Peter thought his tendency to wax poetry about her meant that Harry had fallen hard, and he hoped his friend would at least wait to ask her out until it was confirmed whether or not he’d gotten the job. Apparently, he’d been looking into it for a while, even before the plot to steal Peter’s suit had begun; it had just taken his father disowning him to actually give him the courage he needed to apply for the job. 

While Peter hemmed and hawed about actually returning to the Manhattan apartment, Steve, Bucky, and Tony completed a full sweep of the building as a whole, along with a trained professional, to ensure that none of the toxin Harry had created remained in the air. Harry had insisted that as long as the candle and the device that he’d put in Peter’s backpack were gone, the place should be clear, but Tony preferred they be thorough. Peter thought that was the best choice, too. Although he wanted to trust Harry, he didn’t want to trust him _ too _ quickly. 

They got the all-clear maybe three days after the goblin mess, but still, Peter did not want to return to the apartment. Cheri seemed sympathetic, although he knew having to drive to and from the Compound every day for school was exhausting her. Peter suggested she stay with her mom, or their friend Megan, but Cheri said that she'd rather be with him, and doing so would probably be pointless, since they’d be going back to the apartment any day now. 

Peter didn’t know how to tell her he wasn’t so sure that was true. 

He confessed as much to Ned one day, while they were both sitting in the second floor living room of the Compound. Ned was busy doing one of his freelance tech jobs, seated on the couch, while Peter tried to catch up on some of the developments in a Stark Industries project that he’d missed over the last few days from where he lay sprawled out on the rug. 

Ned glanced down at him after hearing Peter’s concerns, his expression one of confusion. “Are you really that worried about it?” he asked. “They said it was fine. Your suit’s fine, too; Doc made sure. Everything in the apartment was cleaned, and the candle and air freshener thing were both destroyed.”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter sighed, pushing his laptop away from him across the floor and burying his face in his arms. 

“So?” Ned prompted.

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted, his voice muffled. 

Ned let out a very patient breath. “Peter,” he began, going so far as to close his own laptop and set it down on the coffee table (after making sure his work was saved). He looked down at where his friend lay on the floor. Bruce had removed his cast the day prior. 

“I know that you don’t necessarily feel like it’s a safe space for you anymore,” Ned said, “but you have to remember that the only things hurting you were the candle, and the air freshener thingie that was in your bag. Both are gone now. The apartment is free of toxins. It’s completely safe for us to move back in.” 

Peter inhaled. “I know,” he said. “I just - I guess I don’t want to go back, because that’s where it all started. If we go back, it could… start again. You know what I mean?” 

Ned thought he got it, and he could see where Peter was coming from, but he also couldn’t help but feel it was maybe a silly concept. 

“Peter, Harry’s not going to pull something like that again,” he said. “I know it, you know it, and Cheri knows it. It’s not going to happen, because Harry is a good guy, and he won’t have _anyone_ if we decide to drop him. That sounds bad, said out loud, but it’s the truth. Harry _ needs _ people, and right now, we’re who he’s got.” 

“Right,” Peter mumbled. His face remained buried in his arms. 

“We’ve lived in that apartment for literal years,” Ned continued. “It would be a huge mistake to give it up because you’re worried moving back in _ might _ set Harry off. I’m not gonna lie, Peter, that’s a very goofy superstition. The place is _ solid _real estate, and the rent’s pretty fuckin’ fantastic. Plus, we’re allowed to have a pet, if that's something we ever decide to do.” 

“It is a fantastic apartment,” Peter said, sullenly. “Which is why I hate feeling this way about it.” 

Ned sighed a little. “Well,” he said. “I’m going to move back in. Harry probably will, too, once Doc lets him out of that bed. I’m sure Cheri wants to get back in there, too, as soon as she can, because she is spending a lot of money on gas.” He reached for his laptop again. “You can take all the time you want, but the three of us are taking our apartment back.” 

Peter lifted his head. Ned had opened his laptop once more, and had gone back to work, headphones over his ears and everything. Clearly, the conversation was over. 

Sighing, Peter sat up, then stood, exiting the living room. He headed towards the elevator, not really sure where in the Compound he meant to go. 

Eventually, he found himself on the third floor, which was where Steve and Bucky had their suite, down a hall from Sam’s, and across the way from Nat and Bruce’s. Peter frowned to himself, stepping out of the elevator on the floor. Maybe he didn’t want to go to Tony with the issue, because God knew he’d put Tony through enough over the last week. Although, was it fair of him to go to Steve for advice instead? 

Probably not. 

He walked down the hall towards the door he knew led to Steve and Bucky’s shared suite. He was unsurprised to find the door hanging half-open, but he reached out and knocked on it, all the same, poking his head through the gap.

Steve glanced up from the book he was reading, lounged in the bed. He smiled. “Hey, Peter,” he greeted, setting the book down on the bedside table. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing much,” Peter replied, stepping into the room. He wandered over to the desk, peered at the framed image sitting there. It was of Bucky and Steve, from maybe a year ago. They had their arms around each other, and were smiling at one another, rather than at the camera. It was the type of photo Ned would gag at, were Cheri and Peter to be the ones to take it. Peter wondered if whoever had taken this one for the two of them had made jokes the whole time, and imagined if it had been Sam, probably so.

He turned away from the desk, leaning back against it. Steve was watching him, curious. Peter waved a hand. “I’m just - I’m the only one out of everybody who doesn’t want to move back into the apartment, yet, and it’s kind of making me sad.”

“Ah,” Steve said. He sat up and moved to the end of the bed, sitting down there instead, bare feet resting on the floor. “You’ve talked to them about it?” 

Peter nodded. “Harry has to stay here for a few more days at least, anyway, so he’s not really bothered by it. Cheri said that she’s fine with us staying here for as long as I need to, but I can tell that having to drive to the city every day for school is wearing her out. Ned’s the most open about his wanting to go back, and I think that he will, on his own, if we don’t all decide to go together.” 

Steve hummed. “I see.”

“I just don’t like feeling as though I’m keeping them from moving back, even if I need more time,” Peter said, “and I’m… I don’t know. Upset, I guess.”

“Upset with yourself, or with them?” Steve questioned. 

“Both, maybe,” Peter admitted, wincing. “Does that sound awful?” 

“Not at all,” Steve said, shaking his head with a small smile. “I think it makes perfect sense. You don’t want to be a burden, but at the same time, maybe you feel like your friends should be a bit more sympathetic, considering what you just went through.”

Peter’s shoulders fell in relief. “Yes, that’s exactly it,” he said. “Why couldn’t I put that into words myself?” 

“I think it helps to talk to someone, sometimes,” Steve told him, “and especially someone you don’t really talk to about problems on a normal basis, because that just opens up another door for feeling like a burden with _ that _ person, which is what we don’t want.” 

“I don’t… don’t like feeling as though they have to make decisions based on how I feel,” Peter agreed, “but at the same time, I feel like… hey, maybe we should give it a minute, since I literally just spent the last month getting drugged, and I don’t necessarily feel comfortable back at that apartment yet, no matter how safe everyone says it is.”

Steve thought this over. “Have you said _ that _ to any of them?” he finally asked, and Peter hesitated a moment, before sheepishly shaking his head. Steve chuckled. “So, how do you expect them to know about it?” 

“Because they just should,” Peter said glumly, crossing his arms. 

“Peter,” Steve began, sighing a little, “your friends care about you very much, and I know you care about them as well. They do want to make sure that you’re comfortable, and you want to make sure that they’re comfortable. Right?” 

Peter nodded in agreement. 

“So, what I think needs to happen,” Steve continued, shifting on the edge of the bed, “is that you all need to sit down, and have a conversation. Are you prepared to move back in? If you’re not, are you willing to let the others move back without you? When do you think you’ll be ready to go back? Are you willing to go back at all? The answers to those questions are important to share with all of them, and I think it’s important for you to hear all of their opinions on the matter as well.”

A conversation. All four of them, together. Yeah, that sounded reasonable. Maybe Peter could get them all some food, and they could eat in Harry’s medic bay room while they talked. It seemed like a good enough plan to him. 

He nodded, already feeling better about the entire situation. “Yeah, that… that makes sense,” he said. He glanced at Steve, and smiled. “Thanks, Cap. I should’ve thought of that myself.” 

Steve merely shrugged. “Like I said, it’s good to talk to someone, sometimes.” 

Peter exited the suite, exhaling. It _ had _ helped to talk to Steve about it, he realized. Maybe he should consider doing so more often whenever he had a problem. 

He brought out his phone, since Cheri was on campus, and sent a text to the group chat that he and the boys had set up, and then added Cheri to, once she’d moved in with them. 

> _** Me:** Let’s all have dinner together tonight. I can pick something up for us. _

Harry was the first one to respond, unsurprisingly, since he was upstairs in the medical bay and most likely bored out of his mind. 

> _** Harry:** Does it have to be something on Dr. Banner’s list of prescribed meals, or can it be actual food? _
> 
> _** Harry:** Because I haven’t been able to eat anything that wasn’t green *somewhere* in a week. _
> 
> _** Harry:** And I could really use a goddamn taco. Or five. _

Peter had to smile down at his phone. He appreciated how easily Harry seemed to have reverted to his old, sardonic self. Perhaps knowing that no one planned on making it a big deal made it easier for him to do so. 

> _** Me:** We can have tacos, if we’re allowed to eat upstairs with you. _
> 
> _** Harry:** Well, I can’t come down to join you guys, so. _
> 
> _** Ned:** Is there an ulterior motive, here, Peter? _

Peter took a deep breath, pausing in front of the elevator. 

> _** Me:** To be honest, yeah. I think we all need to have a conversation about the apartment. _
> 
> _** Ned:** Got it. I’ll be there. Make Harry’s five tacos eight for me. _
> 
> _** Me:** Cool. Treble? _
> 
> _** Cher:** Sounds good. You know what I like, Pete. And I’ll probably be a little late to the party, but don’t worry about getting started without me. _

Yeah, he did know what she liked. Okay. He reached out and hit the button to call the elevator. This would go fine. They would talk, figure it all out. They should’ve done it sooner, frankly, but maybe none of them had really wanted to discuss whether or not the apartment would still work as a home for all of them, after everything. 

The elevator opened, and Peter stepped into it. It’d be all right. 

**4:32 PM**

About four hours later, Peter sat upstairs in Harry’s medic bay room. Harry was happily munching on a taco, and Peter was examining his phone, currently in a last minute panic-chat with Steve, to make sure that he did this right. 

> _** Me:** So, I just have to say what I feel, right? _
> 
> _** Captain Rogers:** Yes, and you should hear out their opinions, too. _
> 
> _** Me:** … but what if I’m not a fan of their opinions? _
> 
> _** Captain Rogers:** That isn’t what a conversation is for. _
> 
> _** Me:** Right, sorry. _
> 
> _** Me:** I’ll listen. _
> 
> _** Captain Rogers:** Good. It’ll be fine, Peter. _

Peter hoped he was right. 

“Hey boys,” Ned said, entering the room without knocking first. Seeing the pile of tacos on Harry’s lap, he hurried forward and grabbed three of them, before sinking down in one of the chairs that Peter had pulled up to the bed for all of them to sit in. “Fantastic. Thanks, Peter.” 

“No problem,” Peter replied, sighing. He glanced at his phone. Cheri should’ve texted him that she’d left campus by now. 

“So, what’s this about, again?” Harry asked through a mouthful of taco. “Are we all going to vote and see if I’m kicked off the island or what?” 

“No, see, we already did that,” Ned told him, unwrapping one of the tacos he’d grabbed. “And we decided that since you’re, like, financially stable, still, you can stick around.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, smiling a bit. “Great.”

> _** Me:** You on your way? _

Peter looked up from the text he’d sent Cheri, inhaling a little. “Uh, no, it’s about the apartment, like I said earlier,” he told them. “Just… y’know. How we feel about moving back in and everything.”

He met Ned’s eyes for a moment, before his friend looked down again, busying himself with his taco. Peter let out a breath, and looked at Harry. “You’ll probably be stuck here for another week, at least, unless Doc decides to put you in a wheelchair or something.”

“Mm, does that mean people will have to help me go to the bathroom? And shower?” Harry queried. “Because I definitely don’t want Ned doing it, and I imagine that Cheri would be very jealous if I asked you to do it, Peter.”

Peter snorted. “In your dreams.” Cheri hadn’t responded to his text. That was all right, she was probably driving and didn’t want to look at her phone. He preferred that, really. Instead, he opened up the locator app, and typed in Cheri’s password, to check on her that way, just to set his mind at ease. 

“Fuck, these are good tacos,” Ned mumbled through a mouthful. 

“Not as good as Cheri’s,” Harry put in. “She has, like, a special spice or something that she uses.”

“Mm, it’s called Half Puerto Rican,” Ned said. “An old family recipe.” 

Peter frowned down at his phone’s screen, which had loaded up the location of Cheri’s cell phone in about ten seconds. Why was it still on ESU’s campus? She should’ve been on her way back to the Compound by now, at least. He closed the app, and sent her another text. 

> _** Me:** Hello? _

He stared down at the phone, waiting for her to respond. When she hadn’t after maybe thirty seconds, he frowned in concern, and decided to call her instead. The line rang twice before hanging up, without giving him a chance to leave a message. Peter blinked, stunned, and lowered the phone, staring at it. 

“What’s up?” Ned asked. 

“I - Cheri’s apparently still at ESU,” he said. “I tried to call her, but it - it hung up? And I couldn’t leave a voicemail?” He stood. “Should I… be concerned?” 

Harry and Ned exchanged a glance. “I mean,” Harry started after a moment, returning his gaze to Peter. 

“I would be,” Ned said, frowning. “I am, actually.”

Peter exhaled. “Great,” he muttered to himself. “You two eat. I guess… I guess I’ll be back.” He ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and Ned looked at Harry, an eyebrow lifted. 

“What was that about?” 

Harry shook his head. “No idea. She said she’d be here, right?” Ned nodded, and Harry lifted his shoulders. “Maybe she got held up by something.”


	36. Attack on ESU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fact that Cheri is trained as a SHIELD agent due to the convenient fact that her dead grandfather used to work for them shines through.

**October 7th, 2023 - Empire State University - New York, NY, USA - 4:53 PM**

Cheri peered over the edge of the table that she’d hid under, frowning to herself. The lizard thing had crawled halfway up the wall by the whiteboard, and was just sitting there. It had been for the past ten minutes, completely still, after busting into the lecture hall and throwing one of the students that had been sitting near the door into the wall outside the room with its long tail, knocking them out cold. Students (and the professor, unsurprisingly) had screamed, and raced from the room (the professor had been part of this group, too), or hidden beneath the tables. 

Cheri had, obviously, elected to do the latter, and now, glancing over her shoulder around the room, she saw at least fifteen other students had chosen that route as well. All of them looked horrified. Cheri knew she needed to get them out of the room, while the lizard thing was… well. Hanging out. 

Slowly, she reached over and tapped the shoulder of the person nearest to her. They jumped a little, but when Cheri held up a finger to her lips, and gestured towards the student nearest to them, they nodded, and reached over to repeat her motion. Within three minutes, all of the students had been alerted, and they were all watching Cheri, waiting to see what she would do next. 

She glanced again at the lizard, and then at the only door leading out of the lecture hall. Although it had taken up position on the wall, the lizard’s tail still blocked the doorway, and it would need to move before any of the students would be willing to try and leave the room. She doubted any of them were track stars that would attempt to leap over the thing like a hurdle. 

Inhaling, Cheri lifted her hand, and made a couple of gestures that she hoped translated to “Run,”. She then reached up onto the table she’d hid beneath, and grabbed for the first heavy object that she felt. Slowly, she pulled it down, and found herself holding her five-subject notebook that was filled with more partial melodies and drawings of Peter’s spider emblem than notes. 

Without hesitating, she pitched the notebook at the wall, on the opposite side of the whiteboard from where the lizard was. The creature hissed, and scrambled across the whiteboard towards where the noise had originated. Its tail slid across the tile floor, out of the way of the door. Almost at once, the students that were closest to it ran for the exit, their feet pounding. Cheri winced as the lizard whipped around in that direction instead, falling to the floor. Someone shrieked, and a table fell as someone else vaulted over both it and the lizard to get to the door. 

Cheri crawled up onto the table she’d been under, doing her best to remain calm. She could feel her phone vibrating over and over as Peter tried to get in touch with her. She wished she could respond, but the lizard had turned away from the students fleeing the room, at the sound of the table falling. It sat in front of the door now, hissing lightly with each breath, dark brown with bright black eyes. Cheri had no idea if it could see the seven students that remained in the room, all of whom had crawled up onto tables, but it was definitely trying to hear them. 

One of them stepped lightly from one table to the top of one closer to the door. Another followed their lead. Cheri glanced around, trying to spot something that would attract the lizard’s attention again. Her eyes landed on the fire alarm on the wall. 

Gingerly, Cheri set her feet on the floor, and crept towards the fire alarm. She hesitated maybe three seconds before reaching out and hitting it with her fist. Immediately, the alarms all over the building went off, shrieking and flashing. The lizard twisted back and forth, hissing loudly, now. Students fled from the room, using tables as stepping stones in this absurd game of ‘The Floor Is Lizard.” Soon enough, the lecture hall was empty, aside from Cheri, and the lizard, which was still thrashing about, no doubt trying to identify the origin of all the noise. 

At least it was confused, now, Cheri thought, climbing up onto a table again. She started to take the same steps that the other students had, moving from one table to the next. It was awkward, with how short she was, and how much distance existed between the tables, but she took it slowly, focusing on keeping silent, and not losing her balance. 

The lizard moved across the floor in the opposite direction of where she was going, towards the fire alarm. It crawled up the wall towards the flashing light, and smashed it. Cheri couldn’t tell if it had done so on purpose, or if it had merely managed to in its mad fight to stop the noise. The sound of the alarms dimmed, slightly, without the one in the lecture hall, and Cheri froze, the table she currently stood on rocking back and forth slightly on unbalanced legs. 

She glanced towards the door, estimated the distance. Maybe fifteen feet. Glancing over her shoulder, she gauged the distance between herself and the lizard. More like twenty feet, which gave her a solid head start on the thing if she made a break for the door. It would have to clear thirty five feet, by the time she cleared fifteen. 

Cheri thought the outlook was good. She _ needed _to trap the thing in this room. 

She took a deep breath, and carefully lowered herself to the floor. The lizard had crawled back down to the floor as well, and although fire alarms still echoed throughout the building, it seemed the noise was distant enough now that the creature could focus on the immediate space it was in. 

Cheri sprinted for the door. 

She could hear the lizard hissing, hear its claws on the tile as it scurried after her. She reached the door, and slammed it, leaning back against it. The lizard flung itself at it maybe three seconds later, and Cheri squeezed her eyes shut, breathing heavily. Man, she really needed to start working out again. Whatever endurance she’d built up during her SHIELD training had all but disappeared. She wouldn’t be able to hold the door shut forever. 

She looked around, and spotted the heavy trash bin down the hall. She didn’t know how she was supposed to get it over here, where she was, while also simultaneously ensuring that the door remained closed. And then there was the unconscious student laying slumped on the floor across from her to worry about. 

_ Lizard first, _ Cheri decided, _ and then the kid. _

The lizard had stopped thrashing against the door, at least. Maybe, if she was absolutely silent, she’d be able to move down the hall, get the trash bin, and push it in front of the door. But it would hear her pushing the bin, and react to that, most likely getting the door open in the process. 

Unless she moved faster than it. 

She supposed that was what she’d have to hope for. 

_ Shit, I wish I had some of Peter’s web fluid right now. _

She let out a soft breath, and carefully moved away from the door. When there was no immediate reaction from the other side, she took another step toward the trash bin, and then another. Maybe ten seconds later, she was next to it, all without having alerted the lizard to the fact that there was no longer a barricade in front of the door that was keeping it in. 

But how to get the trash bin in front of the door in less than the time it took the lizard to force the door open?

She’d just have to go for it, she supposed. 

She inhaled, and shoved the trash bin before letting herself think about it. Almost at once, the lizard started to ram against the door again. Cheri ignored it, moving the trash bin into place, sweat forming on her forehead. She shoved it up against the door, and then immediately fell backwards onto the floor as the force of the lizard pushing against the door sent reverberations through the bin and into her. The bin remained in place, however. 

Cheri exhaled in relief, and turned her attention towards the student that had been thrown into the wall by the lizard’s tail. They were still unconscious, but breathing, at least. She needed to get them out of the hallway. 

“All right, c’mon,” she said, and she slid their arm around her shoulders, hauling them to their feet as she stood. They moaned, quietly, and she nodded in understanding. “Yeah, yeah, I know it sucks.”

The lizard had gone silent again, and Cheri shuffled the injured student down the hall in the direction of the main doors of the building. She pushed through them, shouting that they needed help. Almost at once, several other students hurried forward, taking the weight of the unconscious one off of her. Cheri slumped down on the steps leading up to the building in relief, resting her head in her hands as she glanced around the courtyard in front of the building. 

The fire alarm had definitely attracted attention. All of the classes in the buildings had let out (although, considering it was fairly late, the amount of classes going on was minimal, which meant that the number of people standing around outside was small). A fire truck was parked nearby, maybe six firefighters around it, looking confused by the lack of smoke, no doubt. 

Cheri remembered Peter, and his many attempts to get in contact with her, and quickly pulled out her cell phone. Five texts, and three calls. She winced, and dialed his number, lifting the phone to her ear. He picked up almost at once. 

“Cheri? Are you okay?” he asked, sounding just the slightest bit out of breath. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, inhaling. “Uh… what do you know about giant lizards?” 

“Giant - what the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “A giant lizard thing broke into the building where my class was, and we had to escape the lecture hall. I managed to trap it in there; it seems like it’s really sensitive to noise, for some reason. Is that a lizard thing?” 

Peter was silent. Cheri supposed she didn’t blame him. “Uh, no,” he finally said. “I don’t… pretty sure lizards aren’t sensitive to noise. I’m a bit more concerned about the fact that it’s apparently a _ giant _ lizard? _ How _ giant, Miss Five Foot?” 

Cheri scowled a little, but in all honesty, she appreciated the attempt at levity by his playful jab at her height. “Six feet long,” she said. “Plus a five foot long tail, at least.”

“Huh.” Yeah, that sounded about right. _ Huh _ was definitely the response that seemed most prevalent to the idea of a giant lizard terrorizing a classroom at ESU. 

“I’m assuming you’re on your way here?” she asked. 

“Well, you didn’t answer your phone, so it -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cheri said with a sigh. “That’s fine. You’d better get here quick, though.” The firefighters that stood around were starting to go from confused to the slightest bit pissed off, from what she could see of their faces. “I don’t know how much longer that lizard is going to be here.”

“Why, did someone call the police?”

“No, but I might have pulled the fire alarm to cause a distraction,” Cheri replied, “and once these fire department guys can get the story out of someone who isn’t crying or in shock, they’ll probably call animal control or something to take care of it.”

“All right, I need… ten more minutes? Could you hold them off for that long?” 

Cheri looked around at her fellow students. As she’d said, literally all of them who’d been in the class with her were in some state of shock, or in tears. “I think I can handle it, yeah,” she said. “See you soon, Queens.” She lowered the phone, and quickly buried her face in her hands, so that she wouldn’t alert anyone by being the only person who’d seen the lizard that wasn’t freaking out in some manner. 

“We have to get into the building,” she heard a firefighter say, and immediately a few students started shouting protests, insisting that they don’t. “In order to turn the alarm off, we need to get in there,” the guy stated. “If you don’t want us going in, someone’s going to need to explain why right now.”

No one spoke up after that, and Cheri supposed it was because none of them wanted to be the crazy person who most definitely would not be believed when they shared that they’d been attacked by a giant lizard. She glanced up, and saw that the firefighters were exchanging looks that expressed their growing annoyance. 

“Let’s head in,” the one that had spoken so far said. “Clark, you got the alarm?” 

“Yep,” another guy, Clark, responded, and he started for the stairs leading up into the building. Cheri quickly stumbled to her feet, and she pressed her hands against Clark’s shoulders, holding him back. 

“Don’t,” she said, surprised that she managed to sound terrified. Maybe the whole lizard thing had shaken her more than she’d thought, and she was starting to feel it, now that she was out of the situation. “There’s - you don’t want to go in there.”

“We have to turn the alarm off,” Clark told her. “To do that, we need to go inside.”

“And I’m telling you that you do not want to do that,” Cheri insisted. She shook her head. “You don’t.”

“She’s right,” someone else said. Cheri recognized them as the student that had been sitting near her, the one whose shoulder she’d touched, to help her alert everyone else. “You don’t have any idea what’s in there, waiting. You don’t want to go in without a weapon of some kind.”

“A _ weapon?” _ Clark asked, frowning. 

“We’re here to turn the fire alarm off,” another firefighter said. “If this is some type of prank, consider us not amused by it, and once we find out which one of you was the one to pull the damn thing, you can best believe that the university is going to be suspending you from your studies. Clark, inside.”

Clark nodded, although Cheri thought she could see that he looked hesitant. He walked around her, despite her attempt to hold him back by pulling on the fire suit he wore. He disappeared into the building. Cheri let out a breath, and glanced down. _ Shit. _

Several minutes passed. The alarms around the building continued to blare. The other firefighters exchanged a glance, and the one that had spoken the most so far lifted a walkie-talkie, speaking into it. 

“Clark, you there?” He listened for a moment, but no response came. “Clark. What’s the status on the alarm?” Still, there was no reply, and the firefighter lowered the radio, glancing around at his fellows, before addressing the crowd as a whole. “All right, people, it’s time to explain. What’s going on?” 

“Clark’s fuckin’ dead,” someone muttered, and Cheri had to bite the inside of her cheek. Logistically, they were probably right, but that had _ not _ been the way to say it. 

The firefighter rolled his eyes, and gestured towards the building. “Let’s go.” 

“No, aren’t you getting it?” someone exclaimed. “The thing that’s in there is _ dangerous. _ It’s going to attack you guys, too!” 

“Yeah, sure,” the firefighter in charge responded. “Then what _ is _ the thing you’re talking about?” 

“We’d tell you if we knew!” another student retorted. “It’s like something out of a goddamn science fiction novel! A big ass lizard!” 

“A ‘big ass lizard’,” the firefighter repeated, flatly. “Great.” He turned to the others. “Come on.”

They started up the stairs, moving past Cheri, who turned and watched them go, feeling extremely useless. What was she supposed to do, jump on one of their backs and keep them from going further? That would probably just get her hit with an assault charge, and they’d end up going inside, anyway. As such, she remained where she was, glancing up towards the sky. 

_ Come on, Pete. Now would be a fantastic time for you to swoop in. _

The firefighters reached the doors of the building. Before the one in charge could reach out and pull one open, the doors blasted outwards on their own, the force of the lizard throwing itself at them causing the plexiglass they were made out of to shatter. The firefighters shouted and cursed, leaping backwards as the lizard hissed, flicking its tail. 

“Shit,” Cheri muttered, students around her already screeching and fleeing the area surrounding the building. The lizard stared at the firefighters, black eyes fixated on them. For a long moment, neither the lizard nor the firefighters moved. 

Finally, however, the head guy started to reach for his radio. The lizard zeroed-in on this, and sprang forward. Cheri winced, turning away. 

She heard a crash, and the distinct sound of Peter’s web shooters. She looked back, and saw that the other firefighters had caught their leader under the arms, and were holding him up. She glanced around, and saw Peter, wearing the recently repaired, but still battered version of the nano-tech suit he’d made, crouched on top of the sign displaying the name of the psychology building. The lizard was pasted to the base of the sign with webs. 

Cheri’s shoulders slumped in relief. _ Thank God. _

Peter flipped off the sign, and walked towards her. “You okay, ma’am?” he asked, and Cheri struggled to hide a grin. 

“Yeah, doing all right, Spider-Man,” she replied. “Thanks for swinging by at the right time.”

“It’s what I do best,” Peter said, and he gestured towards the lizard. “You know anything about this?” 

“Not a thing,” Cheri responded. “You should probably check inside the building; they sent a man ahead to turn the alarm off, and he never came back out.”

“Right,” Peter glanced at the lizard, shot a few more webs at it for good measure, and then jogged over to the firefighters, all of whom had stumbled down the steps. "Everyone okay?” he asked them. 

“Fine,” one of them responded, looking up from their boss, who had apparently fainted. Cheri didn’t blame him. “One of ours went inside and didn’t come back out.”

“I’m heading in to look for him right now,” Peter replied. “Do me a favor, and get animal control down here if you can, okay?” The firefighter nodded, and Peter entered the building, pausing in the front hall. Cheri watched him look around for a moment, before heading left, deeper into the building.

Cheri settled down on the steps, pulling her knees to her chest. She exhaled, slowly, and eyed the lizard. The creature had gone still again, as it had when it had been clinging to the wall in the lecture hall. She studied it for a moment, wondering where the hell it had come from. Something out of a science fiction novel was right. 

It didn’t take long for Peter to return from the building. The fire alarms had stopped, and Cheri supposed he must have turned them off. He spoke to the firefighters for a moment, and Cheri saw them all hang their heads. The leader, who’d been revived and now sat in the grass, actually buried his face in his hands. As Peter was finishing his discussion with them, a large van pulled up in front of the building. Two burly men hopped out of the back, and a lithe older woman with glasses climbed out from behind the wheel. 

Peter went to meet them, and Cheri listened closely to what she could hear of their conversation. 

“Spider-Man,” the woman said, lifting an eyebrow as she looked him over. “What’re you doing here?” 

“I go where the danger is,” Peter answered. He gestured in the general direction of the lizard. “That’s it.”

The woman tilted her head, then moved closer to the sign and the creature. Cheri scooted out of her way, leaving room for her big male assistants as well. 

“Phenomenal,” the woman murmured under her breath, examining the lizard’s length, as well as the length of its tail. “Close to eleven feet long.” She shook her head in amazement, and turned back to Peter. “Any idea where this thing came from?” 

“None,” Peter said. “Do you know what could’ve happened, here? This young lady said that it seemed sensitive to noise.”

Cheri quickly popped up, and walked over to join them. “Yeah,” she said. “I was able to distract it by causing different sounds, to get everyone out of the lecture hall it attacked. I didn’t know lizards were reactive to sound.”

“They can hear reasonably well,” the woman said, “but aren’t any more sensitive to it than any other type of reptile.” She studied the lizard for a moment longer, and then made a face and turned back to Cheri and Peter. “Sorry, I should introduce myself.” She held out her hand. “My name is Dr. Barbara Morse. I work for New York Animal Control. We specialize in cats and dogs, mostly, but sometimes we’ll get a case like this, and that’s where I put my knowledge to the most use.” She gestured to the lizard. “We’ll be taking this guy back to our labs, and doing some tests on him. I’d like to say that he’s some sort of crocodile that is just… oddly shaped, but I doubt it.”

Cheri frowned a bit. “You won’t hurt it though, will you?” 

“No, of course not,” Dr. Morse replied with a smile. “We’ll sedate it, as we would any large beast, and transport him. If it turns out that there’s more of an issue here, that might be of interest to the city, we’ll let the mayor know, but for now, we’ll just be doing some tests, making sure that he doesn't actually pose a threat.” She paused, and then frowned. “However, if he managed to hurt someone pretty badly in this initial incident…” She trailed off, looked at them again. 

“Uh, its tail hit a kid in my class, threw him against the wall and knocked him unconscious,” Cheri replied, when Peter glanced at her to respond. “He’s probably okay, might have a concussion.”

“It killed a firefighter,” Peter added, quietly. Dr. Morse exhaled a breath, and glanced at the lizard, which had remained still throughout all this, despite the sounds of their voices. 

“Well,” she said after a moment, “in that case, we’ll probably need to put him down, once we figure out just what he is.”

“Just like with any animal, right?” Peter sighed, and Dr. Morse nodded. 

“Unfortunately.” She nodded to one of the men that had arrived with her. He dipped his head, and then stepped towards the lizard, pulling out what looked like a handgun. Instead of firing a bullet into the lizard, he injected it with what was most likely a tranquilizer. The creature went limp beneath the webs that held it after maybe thirty seconds.

Dr. Morse let out a soft sigh. “We should move him,” she said, and the two men walked back towards the van they’d arrived in. They returned with a large net and a gurney of sorts. Peter dissolved the web, and the men transferred the lizard onto the gurney, before securing the net over top of it. They pushed the gurney away, and Dr. Morse turned back to Peter and Cheri. 

“This could have gone much worse,” she said. “You were right, to alert us. We’ll make sure everything is handled from here.”

“Thank you,” Peter said to her. 

“Yes, thanks,” Cheri said, reaching out to shake Dr. Morse’s hand. 

She nodded to them both, and walked back towards the van, climbing up into the driver’s seat once more. With that, it pulled away again, leaving Peter and Cheri alone in the yard in front of the building. The sound of distant police sirens could be heard; no doubt the firefighters had called them, to help deal with Clark’s body. 

“Guess that’s my cue to get out of here,” Peter said, shoulders falling. “I’ll find a place to get changed, and meet you back here.”

“Yeah, I should probably stick around to give a statement, since… literally no one else did,” Cheri said, glancing around. 

Peter chuckled. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, and then he fired a web and was gone. Cheri let out a breath, and waited for the police to arrive.

**New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 8:23 PM**

“Well, that wasn’t how I thought I’d spend my evening,” Cheri commented as she pulled her car through the gates of the Compound. Peter laughed a little from where he was in the passenger seat, gazing out the window. Cheri drove the car around to the back entrance, and waited for the garage to open, so that she could park down there amongst Steve’s motorcycle and Tony’s fifteen million cars. 

She glanced briefly at Peter. “You okay?” she asked him, and he exhaled a breath, before shaking his head. Cheri immediately frowned, and quickly pulled in. She turned the car off and faced him. “What’s going on?” 

“Just…” Peter paused, and sighed to himself. “We were all going to have dinner together, so that I could talk to you all about the apartment.” Cheri’s shoulders fell. “Since that didn’t exactly go as planned… I don’t know what to do, now. I spent all day figuring out what I wanted to say to you guys.”

“You can still say it,” Cheri said, quietly. “We’re all willing to listen, Pete, you know that.”

Peter closed his eyes. “I know that you and Ned want to move back in,” he said, and Cheri started to protest. “No, Cher, I _ know _you do, because it’d be ten million times easier for you both if you do,” he insisted. She fell silent, and waited for him to continue. “And I… I’d like to be able to come with you, but I just… I need a little bit more time.” 

Cheri examined him for a moment, brow furrowed. “Is this just about the apartment, or is there more to it?” she asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Is this… is this about Harry, too?” 

Peter did not respond for a long moment. Cheri feared that he wouldn’t, that maybe she shouldn't have brought it up. However, he inhaled, eventually, and said, “Maybe a little. I think… I think I need to spend some more time with him, make sure that he’s… y’know. Back.” 

“That makes sense,” Cheri said, “and I think you’d be smart to do that, especially here at the Compound, with everyone else around.” She reached up, messed with her necklace for a moment. “And you should know that Ned and I would support you doing that, but… _ we _ need to go back to the apartment. Living here is just… it’s too hard, Pete. I’d love to be able to stay with you, but this is the last semester before student teaching, and I’m just… I’m worn out.”

Peter glanced sideways at her, smiling slightly in understanding. “Yeah. It’s okay,” he said. “It - I’d rather you have an easier time getting to and from class every day than be here worrying about me.” 

Cheri reached over, ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. “Worrying about you is something I’m glad to do, though,” she said, quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter replied, his eyes closing as he leaned into her touch. “But I don’t like it when you worrying about me makes life more difficult for you.” 

Cheri sighed. “If you decide that you don’t want to move back in -”

“I just need some more time,” Peter said. His eyes opened again. “It could be three days, it could be a month, but it… it’s just time.”

Cheri studied him for a long moment, brows furrowed. She did not want to do this. The last thing she wanted was to separate from him, to go back to their apartment with Ned while Peter stayed behind with Harry, both to ensure that their friend was back to normal, and to give himself the necessary space he still needed to readjust after the adventure they had dealt with over the past month. She did not want to leave Peter alone to deal with it, however much he wanted her to think about herself, first. 

But, she supposed, that if she _ didn’t _ do that, she’d be a hypocrite, wouldn’t she? Since she’d spent the last three weeks telling Peter to think about _ himself, _ and getting angry when he hadn’t? 

She let out a breath. “Okay,” she said. She leaned over the console between their seats, and kissed him. Peter cradled her face in his hand for a moment, and the two of them sat quietly after the kiss, foreheads together. 

Finally, Cheri leaned back again, managing a smile. “I’m starving,” she said. “Do you think they left any tacos for us?” 

Peter chuckled, and started to climb out of the car. “I doubt it.”

Cheri remained where she was for a moment longer, blinking. She needed to tell him about SHIELD, she knew, and soon. But… maybe she could wait a bit longer, since he was still trying to get himself back to normal in everything else. The last thing she wanted to do was throw him even more off-balance with her own secret. 

She’d give him another week before she brought up the fact that they were supposed to have a conversation. A week would give both of them more time: her to come up with what exactly to say to him when they did talk about it, and Peter space to get his life back in order before she twisted it up again by telling him about her “job”. If she could even call it that. 

“Cher?” Peter stood next to her side of the car, leaning over to look in at her through the window. Cheri jumped a little, having forgotten where she was. She quickly climbed out of the car, pulling her bag out of the backseat as she did so. Peter watched her, a look of amused confusion on his face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking,” Cheri said. “Plotting Harry and Ned’s demise for eating all the tacos. You know.”

“Ah, right,” Peter said, and his shoulders relaxed. “As one does.”

“Exactly,” Cheri said, forcing a smile. She slid her arm around his waist, leaning into his side as they walked towards the elevator. “You’ll help me, right?” 

“Always,” Peter replied at once, wrapping his own arm around her shoulders. 

Cheri did not respond. She could not, actually, because her mouth had gone very dry. _ Dammit, _ she thought to herself, stopping with him in front of the closed elevator doors. She watched him press the button to call it, tried to smile back when he shot her a grin. _ I super don’t deserve him. _


	37. A Fifth Email

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious emails continue.

_ To: _ _ holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: _ _ youbestoned@arcmail.com _

_ Subject: Is this thing on? _

_ Oldest friend, can you believe that these email addresses we created for ourselves on the email program we made when we were nineteen still work? I definitely can (we are geniuses, after all). _

_ In the case where you actually are checking this thing, still, perhaps we could put it to use, as a sort of… private channel, for our private conversations. Unless, of course, you’d rather them not be private. Last I heard, the blonde with the stick up her ass that used to make sure we couldn’t stay in touch is no longer in the picture, which means we can be as loud and proud with our newly re-found friendship as we’d like. As you’d like, pal, you know I defer to you on these sorts of things. _

_ Let me know. Let’s have dinner. _

_ All my love, _

_ T _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me about the email addresses I have no idea where they came from.


	38. The Trip Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Harry take a car ride.

**October 12th, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 4:12 PM**

“You’re sure you’re ready to go back?” Tony asked, watching as Peter shoved some of the things he’d brought with him to the Compound into his bag. 

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Doc said Harry’s leg is okay, he should be able to walk on it with a boot and crutches, so… there isn’t a reason for us to stay here anymore.”

Tony frowned a little. “There may not be a reason for _ him _ to stay,” he said, “but what about _ you?” _

He saw Peter’s shoulders tense momentarily. “I’m fine,” he said, and they relaxed again as he zipped up the backpack. 

“You know that you don’t _ have _ to be, though, right?” Tony prompted, and Peter sighed, shrugging on the backpack. 

“I have to get back to the city, Mr. Stark,” he said. “It needs its friendly neighborhood Spidey.”

That much was true. Over the last couple of weeks while Peter had been recuperating, the rest of the Compound had been hard at work, making up for his leave of absence from crime fighting. Things would be much easier, with Peter back on the streets. 

Still, Tony felt as though he could be concerned that the kid wasn’t fully ready to get back to normal. He could ask questions to make sure that Peter wasn’t pretending for the sake of the city alone, or because he didn’t think he could stay away from the apartment now that Harry could go back to it. Tony just wanted to make sure that Peter honestly felt like he could handle going back to normal. 

“I just want you to know that you can stay here as long as you need to,” Tony said. 

“I know.”

“And you can come stay here if you ever feel like you need to get away,” he continued. “You have a suite here for a reason.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, and Tony forced himself to stop talking, seeing the look on the kid’s face. “I’m all right now. Harry’s back, Ned and Cheri haven’t gotten sick or anything from being at the apartment. I miss them, miss sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, being able to see her and my best friend everyday.” He smiled a little. “I _ want _ to go back.”

Tony exhaled. “Okay,” he said. “Just… just know that the Compound is here for you, if you ever need it.” 

“I know,” Peter repeated, lightly. “Thank you, for that and for letting us stay here for as long as we did.”

Finally, Tony managed a smile of his own. “It’ll feel a bit emptier without you here,” he said, standing and pushing the computer chair at Peter’s desk back under it. Peter grinned, and lifted his shoulders. 

“Nah,” he said. “You won’t mind it. Peace and quiet again.”

“You think there’s peace and quiet with Sam and Bucky living here?” Tony asked, flatly. Peter laughed, exiting the suite. Tony went after him, smiling as well. It was good to have him back to normal. 

As they walked toward the elevator, to head upstairs in order to retrieve Harry, Tony said, “You'll need to come around eventually, so we can work on that suit of yours.”

“Yeah, y’know… I don’t think nano-tech is my thing,” Peter admitted. 

“Mm, you prefer the sweaty, smelly Spandex?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s just that I’m more comfortable in it,” he said. 

Tony laughed. “Whatever floats your boat, kid,” he replied. “I’m willing to help, whatever you decide to do.”

Peter glanced at his mentor, smiling a little. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” 

They stepped into the elevator when it arrived, and rode it up to the medical bay. Before they could start down the hall towards Harry’s room, Peter paused. Tony did as well, and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What’s up?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” Peter said after a moment. “I just… no one’s mentioned the break-in at the Tower, recently.”

“That’s because they were pretty occupied with your mess,” Tony said. Peter winced. Tony grinned, and lifted his shoulders. “It’s not a big deal, anyway. I told them to drop it a long time ago.”

“But…aren’t you at least curious as to who it was?” Peter asked. 

Tony shook his head. “They didn’t take anything, and they only put me out a couple thousand dollars in damages.”

“Still,” Peter said, quietly, and Tony exhaled a breath. 

“Pete, you get to a point in life where so much bad shit happens that when something very small in comparison to a lot of it happens instead, you just kind of ignore it,” he told him. 

Peter studied him, frowning. Tony did his best not to look in anyway that might prompt further discussion on the topic. He really did just want to forget that the break-in had happened, especially so that he could forget that Tiberius Stone had started trying to get in contact with him again. The last thing Tony wanted to do was go through the legalities of establishing a restraining order, but if Ty didn’t stop calling him, and sending him emails, he’d have to seriously consider it. Maybe he could ask Bruce what he thought. And Bruce had a cousin who was a lawyer, didn’t he?

“Mr. Stark.” He returned his attention to Peter, who was still staring at him. The kid crossed his arms. “What’s going on?” 

“Absolutely nothing,” Tony replied, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t we go get your friend? It’s his birthday today, isn’t it?” 

Peter relented. It was Harry’s birthday. Peter and Ned had already gifted him with a rather racy video (including a giant cake) that morning in the group chat. Cheri had sent a GIF of some guy covering his face with his hands as a reaction, while Harry had sent about fifteen eggplant and water droplet emojis mixed together in a pattern. Cheri had asked them, yet again, to create a separate group chat where they could be nasty without including her. Peter honestly didn’t know if they hadn’t done so yet because they liked bothering Cheri with their gross humor, or if it was because all three of them were too lazy to actually create a new group chat. 

He blinked, realizing that his thoughts had gotten off track, and that Tony was now scrolling through his phone, as though they hadn’t just been talking about him instead. 

“Dammit,” Peter mumbled, but all the same walked past him towards Harry’s room, shaking his head. He really needed to stop falling for that sort of thing. 

Behind him, Tony smiled to himself as he pretended to examine his phone. Worked like a charm every time. 

Peter pushed his way into Harry’s room after knocking, and found his friend trying to pull himself off of the bed into the wheelchair nearby, using nothing aside from the edge of the bed, the wall, and his single, unbroken leg. Peter watched him for a moment, just the slightest bit amused, before he walked over and carefully lifted Harry under the arms, settling him down in the seat of the wheelchair with zero struggle. 

Harry blushed furiously. “I _ had _ it,” he insisted, dryly. Peter merely smiled, walking around to the back of the wheelchair and placing his hands on the handles. 

“You ready to go home?” he asked, and Harry sighed, nodding. “Great, me too.”

Tony leaned in the doorway of the room, arms crossed and effectively blocking the exit. He glanced between the two of them before settling his dark brown eyes on Harry only. Peter saw his friend visibly shrink under the intensity of Tony’s gaze. 

“You’d better not pull anymore shit,” Tony said, flatly, “or you’re going to hear from _ me, _ and that is the absolute last thing you want. Understand?” 

“Yes sir,” Harry said, managing to speak clearly even though Peter could tell that he was terrified. “I - I’m not... I’m going to be better, I promise.”

Tony stared him down for a moment longer before exhaling a breath, and stepping out of the way of the door. Peter pushed the wheelchair out of the room, nudging Tony with his elbow as he passed. His mentor muttered something that Peter didn’t try to catch, and followed him towards the elevator. 

“We’re not done talking about it,” Peter said as they rode it down to the parking area beneath the Compound, in order to break the silence.

“I think we are,” Tony answered without looking at him. 

Peter rolled his eyes at Harry, who glanced back at him questioningly. Tony was stubborn, wouldn’t admit to anyone when something was going on, but Peter _ knew _ him, and he knew that Tony was dealing with something. He was going to find out what it was.

The elevator doors opened, and Peter pushed the wheelchair out, Tony following. After helping Harry into the passenger seat of Cheri’s car, which she’d loaned him after informing him that if it came back with _ anything _ wrong, he would never be allowed to drive it again, Peter turned back to Tony. 

Instead of saying anything, he merely held out his hand. Tony smiled a little, and shook it with his own. “Remember,” he said, pulling Peter a bit closer so that he could speak quietly, “anytime you need to, you can come back.”

“I know,” Peter assured him. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, and let Peter’s hand go. He watched the kid walk around to the driver’s side of the car, and climb in behind the wheel. He took several steps backwards, to give Peter plenty of room to navigate the vehicle. After several minutes, during which the car jerked and turned several different ways as Peter tried to back up, it made its ascent outside, Peter waving out the window at him. Tony chuckled, and shook his head to himself, heading towards the elevator again, doing his best to ignore his cell phone, which had chimed in his pocket.

**5:32 PM**

The ride back to the city was fairly quiet. Harry gazed solemnly out the window most of the time, his hand resting on the knee of his broken leg. The boot on it reached almost to his knee, and Peter had to imagine that it was extremely uncomfortable. Occasionally, Harry would absentmindedly reach down and try to scratch the space between the boot and his leg near the top, and fail horribly. 

“Chopsticks,” Peter said eventually, as they were making the very scary transition from the 87 to the 287, which would take them into the city. 

Harry glanced at him in confusion. “What?” 

“Chopsticks,” Peter repeating, side-eyeing a very suspicious looking minivan that was getting just a _ little _ too close for comfort in the rear view mirror. “To itch your leg.”

“Oh,” Harry said, blinking. “Right. That’s not a bad idea.”

“No, it’s a great idea,” Peter agreed, smiling. “I’m a genius. It’s okay, you can say it.”

Harry snorted wryly, and turned his gaze back out the window. “You can get over probably, if you need to,” he suggested after a moment. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter said, watching the rear view as he flipped the blinker on. “This soccer mom behind me is really getting on my nerves.” He switched lanes, and the minivan sped past. Peter scowled a bit at the road, shaking his head a little. “People can be so impatient.” 

Harry did not respond, and Peter glanced over at him again. His friend had pulled out his cell phone, and was studying it with a pained expression on his face. Peter immediately frowned. “What’s up?” he asked. 

It took a moment for Harry to give an answer. “It’s… it’s my dad,” he finally admitted. Peter’s hands tensed around the wheel, and he had to remind himself that they _ couldn’t _ do that, because if he tried to pull them away without remembering to relax first, he’d pull the thing off of the dashboard. 

“Your dad’s trying to get in contact with you?” he clarified, doing his best to keep his voice even. Harry nodded tiredly. “Have you… I mean. Have you responded?” 

“No, of course not,” Harry said, and he actually sounded a little hurt by the question. “I’m trying to be better, and my dad is _ not _ part of that. I promised you, and Cheri and Ned.” He stared at his phone for a second longer before he cursed, and held it out to Peter. “Take it.”

Peter glanced at him, confused. “What?” 

“Take my phone,” Harry repeated. “Seriously. I’m just gonna get a new one, with a different number.” 

Peter waited for a moment before he reached over and accepted the phone. Harry let it go willingly, and Peter slipped it into the pocket on the driver’s side door. He’d need to remember to grab it when they got to the apartment. 

For now, he cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said. 

Harry merely responded with a shake of his head. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “It’s… I mean. It’s literally the least I can do.”

“I guess,” Peter said, “but it… I don’t know. It’s just, like, sort of an extreme, but I’m appreciative of you choosing to do it.”

Harry looked at him again. His expression was somewhere between apologetic and exasperated. “Peter, I’m trying to make things good again, between all of us,” he said, “but especially between you and me. My dad is one of the reasons it all went to shit, and so I’m going to do everything I can to keep him from weaseling his way back into my life. Changing my number is probably one of the easiest ways of doing it, so if you think _ that’s _ a big deal, I’ll be scared to know what you think of any other steps I might have to take.”

Peter studied him for a moment longer, before sighing to himself and pulling out his own phone. He held it out to Harry, who took it after a moment. “What?” he asked, clearly befuddled. 

“Text Mr. Stark,” he said. “Tell him that you need a phone, and that the cost of it can come out of my paycheck.”

“What? No, Peter, I can… I can buy my own phone.”

“I know you can,” Peter said, “but today’s your birthday, and I didn’t get you a present.” He tilted his head towards the phone Harry held. “Text him.”

Harry blinked a few times, before sighing to himself. “I don’t -”

“Harry,” Peter insisted, cutting him off. Harry fell silent. “Seriously. I’d rather you have a phone sooner than later, and this’ll mean I’m a better friend than Ned, because he didn’t get you a present, either.”

“But -”

_ “Harry,” _ Peter said again, giving his voice just the slightest edge. “Come on.”

Harry sat without moving for a long moment, phone resting in his hand, before he exhaled and lifted it. Peter waited, listening to the sound of a text message being typed out and sent. He held out his hand, and Harry passed the phone back over. 

“Thanks,” he murmured quietly. 

“Yep,” Peter replied, putting his phone back into his pocket. They were about to cross the George Washington Bridge. Peter had barely noticed that they’d driven as far as they had in the last fifteen or so minutes. No wonder Cheri didn’t trust him to drive as often as he would’ve liked to. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket; he’d pull it out if they stopped at a light somewhere in the city. For now, he needed to pay more attention to the road because that fucking minivan was back, and was now driving excessively slow right _in front of him. _

“Fucking -”

“Peter.” 

He glanced at Harry, against his better judgement considering how frequently the minivan was hitting its breaks. “Yeah?”

“I meant it,” Harry said. Peter lifted an eyebrow. “Thank you. Seriously. I don’t - I mean, I’ll have another job soon enough, but it… y’know.” He paused for a moment, and then continued, quietly, “Just… thank you. For everything. You could’ve let me deal with my injuries on my own, made me move out, completely dropped me, and you didn’t, even though I deserved it.”

Peter did not respond, even when Harry fell silent. The car remained void of conversation for a very long time, long enough for Peter to reply to the text that Tony had sent back as the traffic paused at a light. 

It wasn’t until he was pulling into a spot across from their apartment building that Peter finally decided on something to say. He put the car in park, and turned in the seat to look at Harry. 

“I’m only going to say this one more time,” he said, slowly, and Harry waited. “You are one of my best friends, Harry. What happened was not entirely your fault, and you did what you did because you were trying to be a good son, which I understand wanting to be before being a good friend. I made up my mind about keeping you around, and I really don’t want to have to remind you why I did it every fuckin’ day, so if you could just keep this conversation in mind for the rest of our lives, that’d be fantastic.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, before a small grin cracked his expressionless face. He had to look away, Peter noticed. “Yeah,” he said. “Uh… I’ll do that, and I won’t… I won’t bring it up again.”

“Good,” Peter said, and he climbed from the car without another word. As he tugged the wheelchair out of the backseat, he glanced up at the rear view mirror, meeting Harry’s gaze without meaning to. They stared at one another for a moment, and Peter saw when Harry smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling just the slightest bit. 

Peter pretended not to have noticed, and pulled the wheelchair out completely, setting it up on the asphalt as he nudged the door shut with his hip. He wheeled it around to Harry’s door, and then helped his friend climb into it, one arm held out to act as a support. Harry gripped it, and lowered himself into the wheelchair with a grunt, exhaling a breath once he was seated again. 

“Y’know,” he began as Peter locked the car, and then started to push the wheelchair towards the building, “if Cheri refuses to let me drink until I blackout tonight, I’m never going to forgive her.”

Peter smiled to himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll distract her for you,” he said. 

“Do that,” Harry agreed.

"Just... don't kill yourself," Peter added. 

Harry snorted in response. "Nah, I'll let nature handle that for me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would die for Harold T. Osborn.


	39. America's Star Spangled Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another email. I didn't want to call this one 'The Sixth Email" so I picked a fun phrase from the body of said email.

_ To: _ _ holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: _ _ youbestoned@arcmail.com _

_ Subject: You’re still mad _

_ Which is completely fine. I understand. I just thought you might be past the point where you refuse to converse with me, at least over email, if not on the phone or in person. I thought you might like to have a friend your age, again, rather than the parade of young bucks you’ve been hanging out with, however appealing they might be. _

_ Of course, one of them is nearly twice your age, although I don’t suppose he acts like it. How is it, living with America’s Star Spangled Daddy? I’d be interested to know. Maybe that could be our first conversation, once you decide that we can have one. _

_ Hugs, _

_ T _


	40. Telling the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri and Peter finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna separate this into two different chapters, but then I said, "Nah."  
It's all the same day, what's the point of breaking it up?

**October 13th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 2:08 AM**

Ned’s mouth hung open, and a thin line of drool trailed from it onto his arm, which his head rested on top of where he lay on the floor. Harry was lounged next to him, curled into a ball, his own eyes closed, and small snores coming out of his nose. 

Peter grinned down at his two friends, dropping the blanket from Ned’s bed over both of them. They’d wake up later on, and not remember _ anything. _That was fine, though; it had been a minute since they’d gotten drunk and had a good time doing karaoke 

His friends taken care of, Peter flipped the light in the main room of the apartment off, and shuffled down the hall to his and Cheri’s bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her curls. Her eyebrows raised as he closed the door behind him, and he leaned back against it, head cocked to the side. 

“They’re out, then?” she asked. 

“Conclusively,” Peter replied. “I doubt either of them will move for the next five hours, at least.” 

Cheri smiled, and went back to brushing her hair. Peter walked closer to the bed, kicking at a few stray articles of clothing that were scattered on the floor. Cheri eyed him, tossing the brush towards the desk after tying her hair up. 

“What?” she questioned, amused by the look on his face, which she could only describe as faux-casual. 

“Mm? Oh, nothing,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Just… thinking. Considering.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh. I’m… thinking that both of our roommates are dead asleep, and it has been a minute since we… y’know.” 

Cheri smirked. “Right.” 

“Yeah,” Peter said. He stopped next to where she was on the bed, and crouched down slightly. “And… well. It’s always very good.” 

“Sure,” Cheri said, letting out a laugh. 

Peter blinked at her. “You don’t think so?” he asked, sounding worried, and Cheri very quickly shook her head. 

“No, no, it’s… it’s nice,” she told him, but was unable to suppress a snicker. 

Peter’s expression twisted into a scowl. “Right,” he muttered, falling back on his heels. 

Cheri laughed again, and reached for him. “Peter, Pete, I’m sorry,” she said, tugging on the front of his shirt. He did not look at her. Cheri cleared her throat, tried to sound serious. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Just… you’re very cute.” 

Peter glanced sideways at her. “I am,” he mumbled. 

“Yes,” Cheri agreed. 

“I’m an absolute catch,” he said. 

“You are, definitely,” Cheri told him, letting go of his shirt. 

He turned to face her, rising again. He grinned. “You know,” he began, walking closer. Cheri leaned back, and Peter’s hand rested on the wall next to her head. “You’re pretty lucky,” he concluded, murmuring it. 

Cheri rolled her eyes. “I think _ you’re _the lucky one,” she argued. 

“Maybe we’re both lucky,” Peter suggested, tilting his head again. His eyes were sparkling. 

Cheri considered this for a moment, struggling to keep a straight face. “Yeah, all right,” she said, and she placed her hand on the back of his neck, tugging him onto the bed. “I guess we can go with that.”

**3:27 AM**

The clock on the wall near the desk ticked steadily away in the darkness of the room. Cheri could not see it, but she _ could _see the digital one that sat on the bedside table. It glowed 3:27 in green, and she blinked, lifting her gaze back towards the ceiling. 

Usually, she’d be worn out, after the sort of bedroom activities that she and Peter had taken part in, but now, she was wide awake, her mind running with countless thoughts. There were so many she almost couldn’t decipher any of them. 

The most prominent one, however, was fairly easy to identify, and she knew it was the source of her sleeplessness. 

She turned her head again. Peter lay on his side next to her, the dark slopes of his back an inviting sight. She could see it rise and fall with his breathing, and she felt an inane urge to attach herself to him like a starfish. 

Instead, she sat up, exhaling a breath, and fixed the bun on the top of her head. She slipped out of bed, then, and exited their room, walking silently down the hall to the bathroom instead. She used the toilet, and then washed her hands, before splashing some water onto her face. She stared at herself in the mirror over the sink for a moment, doing her best to steady her breathing. 

_ C’mon, Schultz, _ she thought to herself, managing to pull her gaze away from the mirror. _ Just go back in there and do it. _

She squared her shoulders, and exited the bathroom. Returning to the bedroom, she was aware that Peter had awoken in her absence almost at once. His position had shifted, slightly, when normally while he slept, he’d stay in the same place all night long. 

Cheri moved back to the bed, slipping beneath the covers. She draped an arm around his waist, and placed a kiss on the nape of his neck. 

“Are you awake?” she whispered. “I can’t sleep.” 

Peter’s response was an incoherent mumble, but all the same, his hand found hers where it was resting over his stomach. Their fingers intertwined. “Not usually the little spoon,” he murmured with a yawn. 

“Everyone should be the little spoon sometimes,” Cheri responded, softly. She was very much aware that she was beginning to shake with the fear of starting this conversation with him. She pressed her face into the dip between his shoulder blades. “I - you remember that conversation we’re supposed to have?” she managed, finally, after having to take several deep breaths. 

“You’re shivering,” Peter said. He rolled over to face her, and his hand found her cheek, cupping it gently. Cheri wished she could see him as easily as he could her, but the darkness of the room made it impossible. She turned her gaze downwards, reaching up and taking his hand away from her face. She held it with both of hers, which tremored. 

“Cheri.” She lifted her eyes, looked towards what she thought were his own. “We don’t need to talk about this right now.”

“Yes, we do,” Cheri said, insistent. “Because I love you, so much, and it isn’t - it isn’t _ fair _ of me, to keep it from you anymore.”

Peter did not respond for a moment, and Cheri realized that the way she’d said it, just now, did not exactly inspire hope for how the rest of the conversation would go. 

“Keep what from me?” he finally asked. 

Cheri inhaled, and forced herself to say the words: “I’m… I’ve… I’ve been reporting on you and what you do as Spider-Man, to Nick Fury. Since the January after Harry introduced us. I trained as a SHIELD agent, when my grandfather was still alive and working for them, and Fury came to me, after he learned that I was getting to know you.”

Again, Peter did not respond. Cheri waited in the darkness of the bedroom, listening to his breathing, It still sounded relatively even, despite what she’d just told him. She hoped that his reaction, when he finally figured out what to say, wouldn’t be harsh. 

Eventually, she felt him pull his hand from hers. “That’s all?” he asked. 

Cheri blinked. “Y-yeah,” she stammered. “I - I’ve wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you’d react, if you’d immediately jump to the conclusion that our entire relationship is this made-up thing for the sake of my job. It absolutely is not, it just -”

“So, what?” Peter asked, interrupting, and Cheri shied backwards onto her side of the bed a bit further, hearing the bite in his words. “You tell Fury everything that I do? Have you known I was Spider-Man the _ whole time?” _

Cheri let out a breath. “Yes,” she said, quietly. “But I - it wasn’t like I planned to ever do anything with the information. It - I was never even _ paid _ for any of it, although, technically, I didn’t actually do any work. The only time I actually contacted Fury about _ you _ specifically, rather than the crimes I knew you were dealing with, was when we found out you were being drugged. I thought that he might be able to help, somehow, but he refused.” 

Peter kept silent. Cheri frantically searched for more to say. “And… I don’t… I’m not going to help him keep tabs on you, anymore, now that I know he’s basically useless. I should’ve stopped when we started dating, but I’m an idiot and for some reason I believed that we needed Fury on our side, in case something like the goblin happened. That was a mistake, and I get it now, and I’m _ so _ sorry, Peter.” 

After a moment, she felt him move, saw him sit up, nothing but a silhouette in the darkness of their bedroom. He reached over her, and turned on the light on the bedside table. Cheri blinked against the brightness, and when she could focus again, she found Peter staring out the window at the foot of their bed. She waited. 

Peter inhaled, slowly, his shoulders rising with the intake. They fell on his exhalation, and then he spoke, quietly: “Why did you decide to tell me now?”

Cheri bit the inside of her lip. “Ned pointed out that it was high time we all stop keeping things from one another,” she explained. “And I also realized that I… if I plan to be with you, for as long as I’d like to be, it… I couldn’t do so while keeping secrets, especially not secrets like that.”

She watched his eyes close, and she waited, not daring to breathe, for him to respond. 

Eventually, Peter’s head bowed. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, his voice low. “I just wish that it would’ve happened before now.”

“I know,” Cheri murmured. “I regret not telling you before now, too, believe me. It… it wasn’t fair of me, to keep the fact that I knew about you being Spider-Man from you for as long as I did.” She wanted to reach out and touch his arm, but she refrained from doing so. “Are you upset?” 

“I think I am, but not… not very,” he said. “I just… I think I want to go back to sleep. We can talk about it more in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cheri agreed, quietly. “I’ll… I don’t really think I’m going to be getting anymore sleep, though, so I… I’m gonna leave you alone.” 

She climbed from the bed again, as Peter laid back down. She’d half expected him to ask her to stay, but he didn’t. She paused in the doorway, glancing back at him. He’d rolled onto his side facing the wall, again, and whatever she’d been about to say died in her throat. 

Instead, she said, “Good night, Queens.”

“Night,” he replied, softly. 

Cheri waited for more. When none came, she closed her eyes, turned out the light, and stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

**7:12 AM**

Peter woke up maybe four hours later, after a night of dreamless sleep. He had actually been amazed that he’d managed to fall asleep without Cheri in the bed next to him, but he supposed he was pretty exhausted from the night before. He sat up, pushing back his hair with his fingers, and immediately realized that there was something wrong. 

He looked around the bedroom for a moment, trying to identify what had given him the feeling. It took him maybe three seconds: Cheri’s laptop was missing from where it usually charged on the desk next to his. The closet door was open, and several of Cheri’s shirts were missing from hangers. Her phone was gone from the bedside table.

So… that was the issue. Cheri had very clearly fled the apartment, at some point in the wee hours of the morning, which meant that he’d have to go looking for her, rather than spend the day recuperating from the squad’s night of debauchery, as he’d planned. 

Fantastic. 

He sighed, and reached for his phone, where it was on the charger on the bedside table, and decided to take the most obvious step towards locating her.

> _** Me:** Where are you? _

While he waited for a response, he made his way to the bathroom and took care of his morning routine. By the time he returned to the bedroom, toweling off his hair, he had a reply. 

> _** Cher:** I figured you needed some space. _
> 
> _** Me:** We were supposed to talk more this morning. _
> 
> _** Cher:** I know, but I… class, y’know? We can have dinner tonight, talk then, okay? _
> 
> _** Me:** You don’t have class on Fridays. _

She stopped responding after that. Peter cursed a little, shoving his phone into his pocket. He wandered out into the living room, and had to smile when he spotted Ned and Harry still fast asleep on the floor, underneath the blanket he’d given them the night prior. At some point, Harry had curled up into Ned’s side. 

Peter pulled out his phone and took a quick picture of the two of them. It could be an excellent resource for a favor sometime in the future. Peter imagined that Harry _ really _ wouldn’t want it getting into the hands of Liz Allan. 

He went into the kitchen to start the coffee pot for the two of them, and then he pulled his phone out again, dialing Tony’s number. He was unsurprised when his mentor picked up on the second ring, despite how early in the morning it was. 

“You’re up early,” Tony said to him. 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, running his hand through his hair, and watching as coffee started to drip into the pot. “Uh… Cheri and I had an early morning conversation, and when I woke up, she was… not in bed, and not in the apartment, so.”

“Huh,” Tony said. “Do you know where she is?” 

“Well, she tried to lie to me, and say that she had class, but I know that she _ doesn’t _ have class on Fridays, so I doubt she _ wants _ me to know where she is,” Peter replied. “Which, y’know, that’s _ fine, _ but I would _ like _ to know where she is, most definitely.”

“And… I imagine you’re calling me to ask if I’ll text or call her, find out where that is, and then tell you?” Tony guessed. 

“Yeah,” Peter said. “It’d be easier than me having to go around the city looking for her in all the places I guess that she _ could _ be.”

“All right,” Tony sighed. “Only because I love you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, smiling a little. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Tony said, and the call ended. Peter slid his phone away just as the coffee machine finished bubbling. He pulled a mug down from the rack over the stove, and poured coffee into it. After mixing some milk in as well, he returned to the living room. 

Harry had started to stir, and Peter stood in the archway between kitchen and living room, watching him as he sipped his coffee. After maybe two minutes, his friend actually seemed to come to, because he let out a rather fun-sounding shriek, and scurried halfway across the room from Ned, as fast as his limping and his booted leg would let him. Peter almost dropped his coffee mug, he was laughing so hard. 

Harry’s shriek had awoken Ned, who sat up at once, blinking blearily around the room and gasping out something that was halfway between a yell of his own and the words, “Wuz hap’n’?” 

“Good morning,” Peter said, recovering from his laughter. He sniffled, and looked between the two of them, grinning. “Did you sleep good?” 

“Why… am I on the floor?” Ned asked drowsily, rubbing at his eyes with his fist. 

“That’s where you fell asleep,” Peter reminded him. “I didn’t want to carry you to your bedroom.” 

Ned grunted as he pushed himself into a standing position. His gaze finally found Harry, where he was pressed against the wall, still breathing heavily. Ned made a face. “What’s the matter with you?” 

Without waiting for a response, he wandered past Peter into the kitchen. Peter turned his grin towards Harry instead, who glowered at him in response. He pointed a finger. “We never speak of this.”

“Sure,” Peter said, but he had his fingers crossed behind his back. “Mum’s the word.”

His phone vibrated as Harry hauled himself up, and he pulled it out. He had a text message from Tony. 

> _** Tony:** She’s at her mom’s. _
> 
> _** Me:** Thank you. _
> 
> _** Tony:** Sure. Gotta make sure that you don’t lose this one; she’s a keeper. _

Yeah, Peter thought so, too. He’d head over there as soon as he finished his coffee. And maybe as soon as Ned realized that he and Harry had slept on the floor together. 

He didn’t have to wait long for the latter. As he sat on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the news, he heard a mug shatter when it hit the floor of the kitchen. He smirked into his cup, lifting it to his lips. Ned raced into the living room. 

“Peter Parker, you are going to delete _ any _ pictures you might have taken last night off of your phone right this instant,” he said, darkly, “or I am going to block you out of the WiFi, and you _ won’t _ be able to get yourself back in.”

“I didn’t take any pictures last night,” Peter said, which wasn’t a lie. The picture he’d taken he’d done so only fifteen minutes prior. He finished off his coffee, and walked past Ned into the kitchen to put the mug in the sink. He returned to the front room, and announced: “I’ll be back later.”

“Where’re you going?” Harry asked, walking out of the hall with his toothbrush in his mouth. 

“To bring my girlfriend home,” Peter replied, shrugging his way into a jacket that had hung on the rack near the front door. 

“Oh, she talked to you about the thing?” Ned guessed, and Peter nodded, sighing. “She overreacted to your reaction?” 

“I guess so,” Peter said. He pulled his keys off the hook, and waved to them. “See you guys.”

“Tell Cheri she can’t stay away,” Harry called as he pushed open the door and walked into the hall. “She’s the only one who can cook!”

Peter smiled to himself as he shut the apartment door behind him, and headed downstairs. 

**225 Schermerhorn St, Brooklyn, New York, NY, USA - 8:37 AM**

It took Peter a minute to remember where exactly Isabel Schultz’s apartment was in Brooklyn. Once he recalled her address, he was able to give it to a taxi that he hailed outside the apartment building. The drive over there cost him upwards of thirty dollars, but he figured it was worth it, to talk to Cheri and convince her to come home. 

He walked into the apartment building, once he managed to get to the main lobby-ish place. He took one look around, and recalled that he’d only been to Cheri’s old apartment building a few times, and Cheri had been with him each time. As such, they’d been able to go straight upstairs. Now, though, he couldn’t do that, and so he had to stop at the front desk. A staff member offered him a dry look from behind it, and Peter walked forward, leaning casually against it. 

“Uh, I’m here for the Schultzes?” he said, doing his best to sound as though he belonged. 

The staff member raised an eyebrow. “Fourth floor,” he said, flatly. “Are they expecting you?” 

“Uh… no,” Peter said, “but I’m dating the daughter of the woman who lives there.”

“Relationship troubles?” the staff member queried, sounding completely uninterested. 

“Yes, actually,” Peter said, only the tiniest bit offended. “Do you need my I.D. or something?” 

“I’ll need to call up to them, make sure that they know who you are,” the guy replied, and Peter sighed, but waved his hand in acceptance. The guy picked up the phone on the desk, and hit one of the buttons, before raising the receiver to his ear. He listened for several moments, and then smiled politely instead. 

“Yes, Ms. Schultz? A young man is here in the lobby, requesting to come up to your apartment. He says he’s dating your daughter?” He eyed Peter for a moment. “Brown hair, brown eyes, ordinary looking.”

“Hey, thanks, man,” Peter grumbled, frowning. 

“Yes, ma’am.” The man listened. “All right, thank you.” He lowered the phone to its cradle and looked at Peter again. “You can go up.”

“Thanks. What’s… what’s the apartment number?” Peter asked, and the man let out a patient breath, before telling him. Peter shot him a pair of finger guns, and hurried for the closest stairwell, which actually seemed to be the _ only _ stairwell. 

He took the stairs two at a time up to the fourth floor, and then he walked down the hall to the right apartment. He knocked on the white door, and waited. 

It opened, after maybe twenty seconds, and an older version of Cheri stood in the doorway. She was dressed in a navy blue blazer with a matching skirt, a white button up shirt underneath. Her dark curly hair, with quite a bit of gray at the roots, was pulled out of her face by a clip. The only feature on her face that didn’t match Cheri’s exactly, aside from the darker shade of her skin tone, were her eyes, which were a light hazel, rather than Cheri’s dark chocolate brown. Right now, her eyes were crinkled at the edges, but not because she was smiling. 

Peter had met Isabel Schultz for real when he and Cheri had decided to introduce her and May via dinner. (They’d met very briefly the year before then, the opening night of a musical that Cheri had starred in at ESU.) She’d seemed to like him, until Cheri had told her that he had been interring for Stark Industries since high school, and had plans to work there once he graduated.

After that, her attitude toward him had always been on the cool side, although she was never outright mean. Since Cheri had worked for S.I. herself, however, and since she’d taken Peter with her on her trip to Washington Heights, Isabel’s opinion seemed to have changed, and she seemed to be a bit more accepting of their relationship. No doubt she’d recognized that her daughter meant to be with him for the long haul. 

“Hey, Ms. Schultz,” Peter said, doing his best to sound casual. “Uh… I heard that Cheri was here. Could I come in?” 

Isabel cocked one hip, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Peter,” she began, “my daughter arrived here at five this morning, crying, with a packed duffel bag, and asked if she could stay with me for a few days. Before I let you in to speak with her, I need you to explain to me why this happened, since she refuses to.”

Peter inhaled, slightly. “She told me that she trained with SHIELD, and that she’s been reporting on stuff to Nick Fury for a while,” he said. 

Isabel blinked. “I see,” she said, leaning against the door frame. “I’m surprised she hadn’t done that already.”

“You knew,” Peter said. 

“Of course I knew,” Isabel responded. “My father was a SHIELD agent, and I worked for them as well, for a brief period.” She frowned at him. “Cheri was bound to get dragged into it, after my father insisted that she should train to be an agent. When Nick Fury found out she had met you, he decided to put her to work, if you could even call it that. He didn’t pay her, didn’t give her any kind of compensation.” 

“That’s probably partially because SHIELD isn’t technically a government agency, anymore,” Peter suggested. 

“I know,” Isabel said. “It just doesn’t seem right that he would have asked her to possibly ruin her relationship with you for absolutely nothing.” 

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Peter said with a sigh. “Cheri thought that Fury might help, if I ever needed it. I actually could’ve maybe used some help, a couple weeks ago, but apparently he wouldn’t give any. I guess that was sort of the last straw for her, because she said that she isn’t planning on staying in contact with him anymore.” He worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “So you’ve known this whole time, too. About who I am?” 

Isabel nodded. “For your sake, as well as Cheri’s, I’ve kept it to myself.” She exhaled. “When I found out that Mr. Osborn had taken your suit, I asked him to return it, but he refused. Now, the company might be shut down because of it, and I’ll probably lose my job.” She rolled her eyes. “Idiot. I never liked the man, even when Cheri and Harry were younger. He never attended his son’s conferences, any of the science fairs Harry took part in…” 

She shook her head sadly, and then looked at Peter again. “I know that you’re very serious about your relationship with my daughter,” she said, and Peter nodded. “I also know that she loves you very much. I’ve never seen her more upset than she was this morning.” 

She let out a breath, examined him for a moment. Peter waited, heart thudding. “All right,” she finally said, and his shoulders relaxed. “Come in. I have to head to work, whatever’s left of it, anyway, but the two of you can stay here and chat for as long as you need to.”

“Thanks, Ms. Schultz,” Peter said, smiling and stepping forward into the apartment as she moved out of the way. 

“Peter,” she said, and he glanced back at her. “Call me Isabel.”

“Okay,” Peter replied, his smile growing. He moved deeper into the apartment, past the updated kitchen and nicely decorated living area, down a short hallway. One of the doors was closed; the one across from it was a spare bathroom. Peter knocked on the closed door. 

“Cheri?” he asked, quietly. “It’s Peter. Can we talk?” 

After a moment, the door opened. Cheri stood on the other side, her head bowed. “I should’ve known Mr. Stark only asked if I was okay because you told him to,” she muttered, backing away from the door. Peter entered the bedroom after her, and glanced around. 

The room was barren, no doubt because Cheri no longer lived there. She had set her laptop down on the small desk near the room’s window, and the twin bed that took up the majority of the space was pushed up against the wall. Cheri sank down on the edge of it, sniffling. 

Peter joined her after a moment, settling down a few inches away from her, kicking at the hardwood floor. “You didn’t have to leave, you know,” he said eventually, glancing at her. 

“I thought you needed -”

“Time to think, yeah,” Peter interrupted, sighing. “But I don’t, Cheri. I’m not angry with you, or anything like that. Sure, you could have told me before, that you were working with Fury, but what would I have done with the information at the time? Cursed at you? Told you to get out of my life?” He shook his head. “I - maybe a week after Harry introduced us, I knew that I wanted you around. At first, it worked best as a friendship, so we could get to know one another, but really, I already knew that I liked you, more than a friend should like a friend, and I eventually realized I needed to do something about it. 

“And, yes, when we actually started dating, and I decided to trust you with the fact that I’m Spider-Man, you should have told Fury, “Hey, I really like this guy, and I’m not going to jeopardize what I have with him for a task that I literally get nothing out of,” but you didn’t, and… that’s okay. We all do things we regret later on, right?” 

Cheri gave a small nod of agreement, and Peter tilted his head, taking her in. “Just because you couldn’t tell the right time to let me know what was going on doesn’t mean that I should be angry at you,” he continued. “I mean, I could probably be a little bit angry, but… you never compromised the fact that I’m Spider-Man to anyone that didn’t already know. I was never put in any danger _ because _ you knew. You really didn’t do anything that affected me in any way. It doesn’t seem fair of me to be angry.”

He reached over, and gently nudged her arm. “So… could you please pack your stuff, and come home?” He smiled a little. “Harry said you’re making dinner.”

Cheri snorted, and she finally looked at him. She was exhausted, Peter could tell. He moved closer to her, slipping his arm around her shoulders. Cheri leaned into him almost at once, exhaling a heavy breath. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. 

“I know,” Peter said. He kissed the top of her head. 

“I shouldn’t - I don’t think you should forgive me so easily.” 

“Cheri, I forgave you for everything you’ve done, and everything you will do, a long time ago,” he told her. “That wasn’t even my choice. That was just falling in love with you.” He closed his eyes, breathing in the clean smell of her hair; she’d probably washed it that morning. 

Her fingers dug into the shirt he was wearing, gripping tightly. “I love you, too,” she murmured. 

“Hey,” he began after a moment, softly, and Cheri hummed questioningly. “You’re my favorite.” 

Cheri giggled, and Peter smiled at the sound. “I’m your favorite what?” she asked.

“Everything,” Peter replied, quietly, because he meant it. 

Cheri pressed her face into his chest. He could feel her smiling. “You’re my favorite too, Pete,” she said. 

Peter shifted, causing Cheri to glanced up at him, and he took the opportunity to kiss her. He then leaned back and said, “I can’t believe you made me come all the way to _ Brooklyn. _ You owe me at least fifteen dollars.” 

Cheri grinned. “How about I buy you breakfast?” she suggested. 

Peter pretended to think it over. “I guess that could be a fair trade,” he said after a moment, and Cheri rolled her eyes in exasperation, leaning up to kiss him again. And again, and again.


	41. Talk To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seventh email.

_ To: holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: youbestoned@arcmail.com _

_ Subject: Who even were we? _

_ I mean, honestly, look at our fucking email addresses and explain it to me. Was I stoned when I came up with mine, because I must have been. And yours - Christ, do you even like Batman anymore, or did becoming a superhero yourself make you realize just what a giant asshole he is? _

_ Speaking of the hero thing… how’s that going? The aftermath of the whole green terror thing seems to have subsided a little; at least, I’ve decided to stop reporting on any new developments. How much did you really have to pay in damages? I’d heard that it was nothing, and I’d love to know how you managed that. _

_ I’d also love it if you actually chose to respond to these emails. Or my phone calls. Or texts. Something. I’ve missed you, Tony, really, and I’d like it if we can get back what we lost, reconnect after all these years of you ignoring my existence and me watching from the sidelines as you’ve kicked alien ass over and over again. The whole saving the world thing is a good look on you. It's obviously what you were meant to be doing all along. _

_ Talk to me. Please. _

_ T _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was short, but like, think about how long the last chapter was, and the next chapter is going to be!


	42. Nighttime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's called away from Halloween festivities because of an art heist.

**October 31st, 2023 - E. 72nd St., New York, NY, USA - 9:13 PM**

“How long did it take you to convince Cheri to dress as Cher?” Megan asked, sinking down on the couch pushed against the foot of her bed, and handing Peter a glass of wine. 

“Not long,” he said, smiling a little as he watched his girlfriend chase Megan’s cat around the studio apartment. The black, straight haired wig she was wearing was going everywhere. “I think she’s always had the idea to do it, but she’s never had a reason to.” 

“It’s right there, though,” Megan said. “You literally call her ‘Cher’.”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter replied with a shrug, “but I mean, there were plenty of other costume options to choose from. And hey, why waste a costume as good as Cher on some low-tier college party, when she could put it to use at yours, instead?"

Megan snorted into her wine glass. “I don’t think I’d call this a party,” she said, glancing around. Ned and Harry were picking at the food she’d put out on the counter in her kitchen. Cheri had coaxed the cat into her lap, and was currently getting her skin-tight black pants all hairy. She looked towards Peter and Megan, beaming, her overdrawn eyes and lips making her look surprisingly like Cher, despite her light brown skin tone that was definitely nothing close to Cher’s own paleness. She beamed. 

“Cat,” she said, proudly, and pointed to the animal. 

“Any reason you’re not dressed as Sonny?” Megan queried, looking at him again. Peter picked at the front of the tattered shirt he’d put on, in an attempt to resemble a werewolf by pairing it with the makeup that Cheri had done on him after watching a tutorial online. 

“Sonny and Cher were only married for, like, five years, and then they got divorced,” Peter explained. “I didn’t want to dress like him, in case the universe decided to take that seriously. And also… I’m not the best singer.”

“Arguably, neither was Sonny Bono,” Megan commented. 

“Hey, leave my ex-husband alone!” Cheri said, speaking up in her Cher impression, which was _ very _ frightening in its accuracy. She’d spent quite a bit of time leading up to Halloween listening to Cher’s music, and watching all the movies that Cher has been in, including _ Stuck On You, _ which Peter refused to watch ever again. 

“Can I ask why the only alcoholic beverage for us in this place is wine?” Harry called from the kitchen. 

“Because we’re all adults,” Megan responded. “Adults drink wine.” She tapped the edge of her glass against Peter’s, who smiled a little and took a sip of the wine. “And also I hate beer.”

“Hate beer?” Harry’s head appeared around the wall blocking their view of the kitchen. “You’re joking!” 

“You shouldn't even be drinking,” Peter reminded him, and Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, like _ that _ever stopped me.” He disappeared again. Peter sighed to himself. 

“You gonna sing for us tonight, Goddess of Pop?” Megan asked, grinning, and Cheri smirked as Ned and Harry both returned from the kitchen, Harry holding a glass of wine. A comically large glass. Peter decided not to ask Megan about it. 

“What do I get out of it?” Cheri queried. 

“I feel like Cher would never pass up an opportunity to sing for people,” Ned commented, walking over to the couch with a plate full of cheese and crackers. He sat down with a heavy exhalation, looking at Cheri. “Just saying.”

“What, you know Cher personally?” Harry asked, falling onto the bed. His booted foot stuck out over the edge of it. Peter had to shift sideways a little to make space for the wine glass as Harry leaned over the back of the couch.. 

“Well, no, jackass,” Ned said, annoyed. “I just think that if Cheri wants to play into the character, she should do the things that Cher would do.”

The cat jumped out of Cheri’s lap, and she stood, brushing off her thighs to no avail. She then stalked over to them, and stepped up onto the coffee table. Megan cursed. “Is this necessary?” she asked, looking up. “What if you break it?” 

“I only weigh 145 pounds,” Cheri said, frowning back at her. “If your steel coffee table breaks because I’m standing on it, you got a bad deal.”

Megan let out a breath. “Just don’t stomp around on it or anything,” she said wearily. “My neighbors downstairs are “very sensitive to noise”, apparently.”

Cheri snorted. “Get me my music,” she said, flipping her wig dramatically. 

Ned sighed a little, but pulled out his phone, almost tipping his plate as he did so. Peter reached over and took it from him. Ned tapped at his screen a few times. “Do you have a preference, Cher?” he asked. 

“I’ll sing anything,” Cheri said, waving her hand. 

Ned looked at Peter, who smiled and lifted his shoulders. “You heard the Goddess of Pop,” he said, gesturing towards Cheri. “Play her something.”

“Christ,” Ned said. “I just want to eat my cheese and crackers.” He typed something out on his phone, and then set it down on the arm of the couch, reaching for the plate again. An ad played before the video began, and as soon as she heard the starting notes to the song Ned had chosen, Cheri grinned, and struck a pose. Peter leaned back, ready to see what she decided to do. 

_ “If I could turn back time _ _  
_ _ If I could find a way _ _  
_ _ I’d take back those words that hurt you _ _  
_ _ And you’d stay.” _

Cheri dropped her chin, but lifted her eyes, an expression of hurt on her face. 

_ “I don’t know why I did the things I did. _ _  
_ _ I don’t know why I said those things I said. _ _  
_ _ Pride’s like a knife; it can cut deep inside. _ _  
_ _ Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes.” _

Cheri tilted her head to the side, holding out her arm. 

_ “I didn’t really mean to hurt you. _ _  
_ _ I didn’t wanna see you go. _ _  
_ _ I know I made you cry, but baby -” _

She held out both of her arms, and sang to the ceiling:

_ “If I could turn back time _ _  
_ _ If I could find a way _ _  
_ _ I’d take back those words that hurt you _ _  
_ _ And you’d stay. _ _  
_ _ If I could reach the stars -” _

Cheri did in fact reach for the stars. 

_ “I’d give them all to you -” _

She blew the audience a kiss. 

_ “And you’d love me, love me, _ _  
_ _ Like you used to do. _ _  
_ _ If I could turn back time.” _

The hurt expression returned, and Cheri sank down into a crouch on the tabletop. Peter couldn’t help but laugh a little. When she was convinced to perform, she really invested into the role. 

_ “My world was shattered _ _  
_ _ I was torn apart _ _  
_ _ Like someone took a knife and drove it deep into my heart.” _

Cheri pointed towards the front door of Megan’s studio, her face full of anger, now. 

_ “You walked out that door, _ _  
_ _ I swore that I didn’t care.” _

The pain came back, and she hit her fist against the top of the table. 

_ “But I lost everything, darlin’ _ _  
_ _ Then and there.” _

She looked up, met their eyes individually. 

_ “Too strong to tell you I was sorry. _ _  
_ _ Too proud to tell you I was wrong. _ _  
_ _ I know that I was blind, and darling -” _

She hopped back up to a standing position, and Megan cursed again, reaching out to grip the edges of the table as it rattled under Cheri’s movements. 

_ “If I could turn back time _ _  
_ _ If I could find a way _ _  
_ _ I’d take back those words that hurt you _ _  
_ _ And you’d stay.” _

She repeated the movements that she’d done before. Apparently, the thing was _ choreographed, _ now. 

_ “If I could reach the stars _ _  
_ _ I’d give them all to you _ _  
_ _ And you’d love me, love me, _ _  
_ _ Like you used to do! _

_ “If I could turn back time!” _

They all cheered as she hit the note, Peter jumping to his feet, and almost smacking Harry in the nose in his exuberance. “Oh, sorry,” he said, grinning widely. “I’m so sorry.” 

_ “If I could find a way! _ _  
_ _ I’d take back those words that hurt you _ _  
_ _ And you’d stay! _

_ “If I could reach the stars! _ _  
_ _ I’d give them all to you! _  
_ And you’d love me, love me, _ _  
Like you used to do._

_ “If I could turn back time.” _

Cheri sank to her knees. 

_ “If I could… turn back time.” _

She laid down on her side on the table, blinking into the middle distance. Everyone burst into applause, including Ned, even though he still had his plate in one hand. Cheri sat up, grinning, and bowed at the waist. 

“Thank you, thank you,” she said graciously, still speaking with her Cher voice. “I love you.” 

There was a knock at the door, then, and Megan started, blinking. “Who could that be?” she asked, glancing around at all of them. 

“Oh, I uh…” Ned stood up, setting down his plate, and rubbing at the back of his head. “I might have invited someone. Her name is Felicia.”

_ “Her _name?” Harry asked, grinning at him, and Ned pressed a hand against Harry’s cheek, turning his face away. 

Megan and Cheri exchanged a glance, before Megan shrugged and stood, walking towards the door. She pulled it open. “Hey,” she greeted. “I’m Megan.”

“Right,” the blonde on the other side said, smiling. Her eyes were slanted, kind of like a cat’s, the illusion made stronger by the eye makeup she wore. She was dressed as Sandy from _ Grease, _ after she’d been greaser-fied by the Pink Ladies. “Ned invited me?” 

“Yeah, c’mon in,” Megan invited, stepping out of the way of the door. “You just missed a performance by Cher.”

“Damn,” Felicia said, and she stepped into the apartment. Cheri practically heard the bones in Harry’s jaw crack as it hit the floor. Even Peter looked a little starry-eyed, catching sight of tight, _ tight _ pants the girl wore, alongside killer red pumps. Cheri stared at him, until he blinked and looked back at her, appropriately ashamed. 

“Hey!” Ned said cheerfully, walking towards her. “Felicia, glad you came.”

“Sure,” she said, smiling. “These are the friends you’ve talked so much about, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ned said, waving her forward. “Everybody, this is Felicia Hardy. We met maybe a week ago, at a café.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Cheri said, standing and holding out a hand towards her. “Cheri.”

“Cher,” Felicia said, examining her costume. “Nice.”

“Yeah, well, it took some convincing,” she said, nodding towards Peter. “This is Peter.”

“Right, yeah,” Felicia said, holding out her hand towards him. Peter quickly jumped up and shook it. “Ned’s talked about you the most, I think.”

“Well, we are best friends,” Peter said. He had to pull his hand from hers; her grip was really strong. “Good to meet you.”

“And I’m Harry,” Harry said, sliding in between the two of them. He took Felicia’s hand in his, and held it delicately. “It is an _ absolute _ pleasure to meet you.”

Felicia laughed, and Cheri noticed Ned’s expression go from irritated with Harry’s antics to pure, unadulterated adoration in about half a second. “Ned said you’d act like this,” Felicia said to Harry, who merely grinned. 

“Did he?” 

“Okay, all right,” Ned said, shuffling Harry back by tugging on his shoulder. “Give her some space, you leech.” Although he spoke to Harry, his eyes never left Felicia. “Sorry about him.”

“It’s all right,” Felicia said, and she winked at Harry. Actually _ winked. _ “I think he’s cute.”

_ Jesus, _ Cheri thought to herself, and she took a step closer to Peter, her desire to protect him from this cat woman rising significantly. He slid an arm around her waist, as though sensing her need for closeness, and squeezed a little, just enough to reassure her that he was not falling for it the way Harry and Ned clearly were. That helped her feel better, but only the slightest bit. She would not be letting her guard down around this _ Felicia. _

“Why don’t we all sit?” Megan suggested, gesturing to the couch. Cheri offered her friend a grateful look as Felicia took a seat on the couch. Ned and Harry quickly clambered to sit on either side of her. Peter settled down on the edge of the coffee table, pulling Cheri down with him. She smiled to herself, leaning into his side. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Megan asked Felicia. “I have wine.” 

“Wine would be great, thanks,” Felicia said, flashing another dazing smile. Megan nodded, and quickly walked away towards the kitchen. Felicia looked between Ned and Harry for a moment, before turning her attention to Peter and Cheri. 

“So,” she began, “Ned’s told me that the two of you have been dating for a while?” 

“Over a year, yeah,” Peter said. Cheri relaxed further. She appreciated him responding so easily, making it known at once, rather than letting her do it. It allowed her to pretend she wasn’t feeling possessive. “But we’ve known each other for longer than that.”

“That’s nice,” Felicia said, smiling. Cheri could see that it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“You met at a café?” she asked, looking to Ned as well. 

He nodded, eyes bright. “Yeah, Felicia works there. She gave me extra ketchup for my french fries without me even asking.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. Cheri kneed him, going sideways into his thigh so that no one would notice. Harry hissed, and kicked her leg away with the foot not encumbered by the large black boot helping heal his leg. Felicia was smiling at Ned. 

“You looked like a ketchup kind of guy,” she said. 

Megan returned, then, with a glass of wine. Felicia took it, nodding, and Megan sank down on the coffee table next to Cheri. “The thing I don’t get about Ned is that he puts ketchup all over his fries,” she said. 

“It’s so people don’t _ steal,” _ Ned said, giving Peter a pointed look. Peter lifted his shoulders with a sheepish grin. 

“I like fries, what can I say?” 

In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Cheri must have felt it, too, because she immediately looked up at him, wide eyed. Peter did his best to ignore the expression and pulled his phone free. A break-in has just been reported, apparently of some art dealer’s studio. George wanted him to try and track down the paintings. 

“Uh,” he started, standing up halfway, which was about as far as Cheri would let him. “I have to go.” 

“What, already?” Megan asked, blinking in surprise. “You’ve only been here for an hour:” 

“Yeah, I know, sorry,” Peter said, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “It’s a work thing. I’ll see you guys at home, yeah?” 

“Are you sure?” Cheri asked, as he gently pried her fingers off of the hem of his shirt. “I could drive you.” 

“No, I’ll take a cab,” Peter said. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Have fun, all right? Thanks, Meg.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Megan said, standing to let him pass. “I - sucks.” 

“A little,” Peter said, “but I get paid overtime.” 

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs out of Megan’s apartment building that he realized neither Ned or Harry had reacted to his abrupt departure. He decided to consider that later, stripping off the tattered shirt he wore. He had paintings to find. 


	43. Early Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of naughty if implied sex makes you uncomfortable I'd just, like... skip it entirely.
> 
> If that is the case, I'll write a short summary of the plot of this one in the note at the end, so you can jump down to it without having to encounter the indecent-ness.

**November 1st, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 2:42 AM**

Peter slid the window of the apartment that lead into his bedroom open, and slipped in through it. He landed lightly on the floor, and reached back to close it again. The bedroom was dark, and he tilted his head, extending his hearing towards the living room. Voices reached him, one raised shrilly via the effects of alcohol as two others laughed in response. They must have only been back for a little while, if they were still awake and arguing about something. 

Peter changed out of his suit into a fresh pair of boxers and a clean t-shirt. He placed the suit carefully up onto the shelf in the closet, and started for the door of the bedroom. He was about to reach out and turn the knob when he heard Cheri’s voice drifting down the hall, lilting musically as she hummed the lyrics to a Cher song. She walked past the bedroom, and Peter heard the bathroom door close. 

He waited a moment, debating with himself. Sure, he could go out into the living room, say goodnight to his friends, and then come back to his room and pass out on the bed after a night spent chasing an art thief around upper Manhattan, _ or… _

Or he could ditch the t-shirt, lounge back on the bed, and wait for his girlfriend to come to the room to get into bed. He knew how her nighttime routine worked. She’d already bid Ned and Harry goodnight, and would spend the next fifteen or so minutes in the bathroom, removing her makeup, washing her face, brushing her teeth… the makeup part might make the wait a bit longer, considering how much she’d put on for the sake of her costume, but Peter was willing enough. 

Decided, he peeled the t-shirt back off, tossing it haphazardly onto the desk, and made himself comfortable on the bed, making sure to position himself in such a way that Cheri would not be able to resist.

As he lay there, waiting for her, his thoughts drifted to the robbery. The art dealer had been long gone by the time he’d gotten to the studio. The officer that was onsite had immediately led him over to the only sign that the thief had left behind, graffiti art of a cartoonish black cat. Peter had asked Karen to do a search around the city of similar graffiti, but all the locations that her results had turned up had been worthless. No doubt, if they wanted to catch the thief, they’d have to wait until they struck again, which Peter did not _ want _ to do, but it wasn’t as though there was much other choice. 

He sighed a little to himself. Art thieves. Is this what his superhero-ing had come to? 

About twenty minutes passed before he heard the sink in the bathroom run for a brief moment. Peter smiled a bit, more than a little pleased and amused by how well he knew his girlfriend. The door to the bathroom opened, and he followed Cheri’s movement back down the hall to their bedroom. A second later, the knob on the door turned, and she pushed the door open. 

Peter turned his head sideways, languidly, so that he could see her. She was a dark contrast against the golden light of the hall behind her. The wig was gone, as was the outfit she’d been wearing. Now, she stood dressed in one of his shirts. The hem skimmed the middle of her thighs. 

She smiled brightly, seeing him, and stepped completely into the room. Without looking, she closed the door behind her, and leaned back against it, jutting one knee forward. Peter pursed his lips.

“Hey, Queens,” she greeted. Her voice was low, suggestive, and Peter cursed a little under his breath. He was supposed to be making _ her _ want _ him, _ not the other way around. 

“Hey,” he managed, despite how dry his throat had gone. He sat up. “How long have you guys been home?” 

“‘Bout an hour,” she replied, tilted her head to the side. “How’d the crime go?”

“Not so good,” Peter admitted. “Don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Mm, okay,” Cheri said, agreeably. “Let’s not, then.”

Peter stood, and walked across the room to where she stood. He placed one hand against the door near her head. The other trailed down her side, following the curve of her waist. He pushed up the shirt she wore, and caressed her hip, tracing his fingers over the smooth skin. He dipped his head down, brushing his lips over her temple. Cheri keened, leaning up into the feeling. 

“Cheri,” Peter began, his own voice dropping to the octave that he knew got a rise out of her every time. Maybe it was cheating. He didn’t really care.

“Yeah?” Her tone was breathy, now, and he smirked, amused by how quickly the trick had worked. 

“I think… you looked fantastic tonight,” he told her. “But you always look fantastic, so maybe tonight you looked _ phenomenal.” _

“And how do I look right now?” she whispered, most likely unable to speak any louder. 

Peter grinned again, against the skin of her neck. “Perfect,” he murmured, and dropped a kiss onto the curve where her neck met her shoulder, exposed by the size of the t-shirt. Cheri whined a little, shifting, and Peter pressed in further, closing her into the space between himself and the door. 

“Would you kindly take me to bed?” she asked, the pleasant air to her voice no doubt forced. Peter chuckled, and she shifted again. He could feel the goosebumps rise on the skin of her waist, and had no doubt that she was covered in them. 

“Well, since you asked so _ nicely,” _ he said, and without hesitating, lifted her by the thighs until she could wrap her legs around his waist. Cheri attacked his mouth with her own as soon as she could. Peter had to struggle to remember not to drop her as he turned them around, carrying her to the bed. She bit his lower lip, invading his mouth with her tongue. He swallowed back a moan as he lowered her to the mattress, adjusting himself so that he wouldn’t crush her beneath him as he continued the kiss with a fervor. One of Cheri’s hands locked into the hair on the back of his head, and Peter _ did _ moan this time, right into her mouth. 

The _ sounds _ you make, _ Cristo,” _ she cursed, pulling back enough so that he’d understand her. 

“Your fault,” he retorted, and chased after her lips. Cheri still had her legs around him, and she used this to her advantage, tugging his hips closer to hers until there was friction there, and Peter grunted without meaning to at the unexpected feeling. Cheri grinned victoriously through the kiss. Peter growled a bit. So, it was going to be like _ that. _

He pressed his hips into hers again, easing into the movement, and Cheri huffed into his mouth, heels scrabbling against his back as she tried to pull him forward much more quickly. Peter was having none of it, though, and he easily countered against her strength and ferocity, taking it slow. This was going to _ last, _ dammit. 

“Peter Parker,” she panted, head dropping to the mattress. Peter took up kissing her neck in lieu of her mouth, which was too busy complaining to be kissed properly. “I am _ not _ having your slow, thoughtful sex at _ all _ tonight.”

“Yes, you are,” Peter retorted calmly, pulling back from sucking a mark into her collar bone. “And do you know why?” 

“Why?” she asked, almost plaintive. Peter was not convinced. 

“Because,” he started, dropping a hot kiss onto the other half of her collar bone, _ “I _ don’t -” Another kiss, this one on her neck. “- want to -” A third kiss, the underside of her jaw. Cheri whinged. “- rush.” He enforced this statement by capturing her lips with his again in a languid, gentle kiss, much more sweet than the one they’d been sharing moments prior. Cheri whimpered through it, the hand that had been tangled in his hair finding purchase on the back of his neck instead. Her other hand grasped at his shoulder. 

Peter pulled back all the same, met her eyes. They were even darker than normal with lust, with want. He smiled. “Let me take care of you, Treble Clef,” he insisted, speaking softly. 

Cheri huffed again, but her eyes had softened considerably with affection. She gazed up at him, and couldn’t fight the urge to smile, her dimples showing up. Peter grinned as well, since that had been exactly what he wanted, and he kissed her again. “So?” he asked through it. 

“Yes, fine, okay,” Cheri said, voice high-pitched, no doubt from the way that he was leaning into her again. “Whatever you want.”

“Believe me,” Peter said with a grin against her neck that made her twitch, “you’ll thank me afterwards.”

“I won’t be doing anything afterwards if nothing ever happens,” Cheri grumbled.

In response to this, Peter shifted his hips once more, with feeling. Cheri hissed, the grip she had on the back of his neck tightening just the slightest amount. “Fuck,” she muttered, and tried to pull his lips to hers. “So help me, I will _ eat you alive, _ Spider-Boy.”

“I love the sweet talk,” Peter hummed, letting her tug his head closer so that their lips would brush. “Keep going.”

“You -” She leaned up and kissed him. “- are going to be -” Another kiss, harder this time. “- the _ death _ of me.” The end of the statement was punctuated by her tugging his lower lip between her teeth again. It took all of Peter’s willpower not to reach in between them and rip the shirt she wore in half in order to get even closer to her. He’d said he was going to take this slow, and that was going to stick. 

**7:32 AM**

Cheri had never typically been a morning person. Of course, she’d get up to go to school because she _ had _ to, or she’d wake up early in order to go to the dentist or a doctor’s appointment because she _ had _ to, but she never woke up early willingly. She did not see how waking up early made a difference, when a person could simply stay up late instead. 

Cheri had never been a morning person, until she’d started to share a bed with Peter. After sleeping in the same bed as him multiple times, and waking up next to him to find that at some point in the middle of the night he’d cuddled her up next to him, wrapped an arm around her to hold her close, Cheri decided that she didn’t mind waking up early. She liked being awake before him, at any rate, being able to look at his face, peaceful with sleep, before he was alert, and moving, ready to start the day. The mornings when she was awake first were ones that she treasured, and she wanted the rest of her life to be full of them. 

The morning of November 1st, the night after Megan’s Halloween gathering, Cheri discovered, was particularly enjoyable, even though she hadn’t woken up before Peter. In fact, it was pleasurable precisely because she hadn’t woken up before him, and was only made alert due to a sensation low in her abdomen, a fire that burned steadily and flickered to the rhythm that Peter had decided to play with his mouth. 

Now, she lay in bed, head thrown back and eyes closed in absolute bliss, the covers tossed aside and her hand tangled in Peter’s hair. She’d struggled to speak at first, to ask what the hell was up with him, but gave up shortly after, and decided to let herself enjoy this, since Peter certainly seemed to be. 

On the bedside table, one of their phones buzzed. Cheri opened one eye and glanced towards it, wondering how important the message was. Peter merely raised his eyes, and met hers. When the phone buzzed again, Cheri started to reach for it, only to gasp when the grip Peter had around one of her thighs tightened. 

“No,” he said, voice raspy. His mouth was gorgeously pink, and his eyes were dark. How the hell could Cheri argue with him when he looked like _ that? _ She let her arm drop back to the mattress, let her head return to the pillow, eyes falling shut again as Peter returned to his ministrations. _ Fuck, _ good morning indeed.

The phone buzzed yet again, and a fourth time in rapid succession. Her eyes flew open, and turned in the direction that the sound was coming from. Peter cursed, sending a delicious vibration up her whole body, and started to work more quickly. Cheri bit out a colorful superlative of her own, the grip she had on his hair tightening considerably, all thoughts of the phone and whoever was trying to get in touch with one or the other of them forgotten. 

Until it buzzed again. And then again. And a seventh time, for good measure. Peter huffed outwards, breath hot on her inner thighs. After a moment, he sat up, a bit forcefully, and with speed she knew he had, but rarely saw employed, he moved up on the bed, and looked at not _ his _phone, but hers. Within seconds, he was cursing again. 

Cheri, who had only just managed to get her breathing under control, her heart rate still coming down, pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Who is it?” she asked. 

“Megan,” Peter muttered darkly, “sending pictures from last night.” He glared at her over his shoulder, and it didn’t take her longer than a millisecond to see how playful the look was, beneath the fire in his eyes. “I had to stop for pictures of a party that happened _ last night.” _

Cheri giggled helplessly, and dropped back onto the pillow. She cupped her hands over her mouth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes out of pure glee and adrenaline. Instantaneously, Peter was over top of her, supporting himself on his elbows. He tugged her hands away from her mouth, eyes glittering. 

“I’m glad you think this is hilarious,” he said, faux-bitterly, “because I do not.”

“Oh, come on, sourpuss,” Cheri said, grinning openly. “It’s pretty fucking funny.”

“Mm.” The sound was the only response Peter gave, and Cheri leaned up, kissing the scowl off of his face, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. Peter exhaled through his nose, relaxing into the kiss. Cheri placed her hands on his back, running her fingers lightly over his shoulder blades. Peter hummed a little, the feeling of which transferred from his chest into Cheri’s. 

After a moment, he pulled back, and opened his eyes languidly. Cheri blinked up at him, smiling softly. Peter’s eyes had lost the fire that they’d previously held, and now only sparkled with adoration as he gazed at her. 

“Good morning, _ mi corazòn,” _ she greeted, warmly. 

“Good morning,” he replied, returning her smile. “Sleep good?”

“Wonderfully,” she responded, stretching luxuriously. Peter slipped off of her again, settling down onto his side next to her. Cheri turned her head to look at him, stroking the backs of her fingers against his arm. “You know, you’re kind of kicking ass at the sex part of the relationship,” she said after a moment. 

Peter chuckled. “Am I? Do I need to pull back?” 

“No,” Cheri said. “Just wondering why, is all.”

Peter was silent for a moment, and Cheri waited, an eyebrow cocked expectantly. “I mean, September kind of sucked,” he finally admitted. “And then I spent… half of October hiding at the Compound…”

“Ah,” Cheri said in understanding. “I see.”

“So, yeah, you could say I feel a little deprived,” Peter continued. “Not that this needs to be a regular thing, if you don’t want it to be.” He suddenly looked very worried. “Is it bad? I mean, we can stop.” 

“Pete,” Cheri said, before he could talk himself into a very deep canyon that would take an hour to rescue him from. “It’s fine. I get it.” She smiled. “I _ like _ it. And I missed you.”

Peter visibly relaxed. “I missed you, too,” he murmured. 

Cheri scooted forward and kissed him, softly. Peter’s hand cupped her cheek for a moment, before slipping up into her curls. The other found its way around her waist, tugging her even closer. She hummed happily, and started to roll over on top of him -

_ “Hey!” _ A loud knock sounded on the door, startling her. Peter merely looked annoyed as she pulled back, opening her eyes in surprise. _ “Stop with the intercourse! We’re hungover and starving out here!” _

Cheri offered Peter a look, and he smiled a little, reaching up and covering his ears. Cheri then leaned over him, and shrieked, _ “Fuck off we’re sleeping!” _

She waited a moment, and when no knock came in return, she allowed herself a coy smile and settled down again, looking at Peter. “Where were we?” she asked, blinking. 

“Right about here, I think,” he replied, slipping both arms around her waist and tugging her towards him once more. Cheri reached blindly for the blanket, and pulled it back over the two of them. 

Early mornings, she decided, were fine by her, so long as they included Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter comes back from his attempt to find the art that was stolen in the last chapter, empty handed. Although he did not manage to find the art, the person who stole it did leave behind a clue: a graffiti, cartoonish black cat. Peter concludes that he will have to wait until the thief strikes again, in order to catch them. 
> 
> ... that's about it for plot, I think. The rest is naughtiness.


	44. A Day With Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Tony Stark includes a morning pee, and obsessive emails from an ex-best friend/lover.

**November 8th, 2023 - New Avengers Facility, Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 6:45 AM**

Tony Stark’s days all started very similarly. He woke up between six and seven, or more accurately whenever his bladder decided that it needed to make some piss. He’d attend to his morning bathroom ritual, complete with a quick teeth brushing (everyone knew that the morning brush wasn’t nearly as important as the nighttime brush; it was mostly to get rid of the bad taste), and shower, if he hadn’t felt like taking one the night prior, which was usually how it went. 

He’d then stand in front of his closet for maybe fifteen minutes, trying to decide what to wear, clad in nothing but a towel, AC/DC or Van Halen blaring obscenely from the speakers in the bathroom shower. After making a half-assed decision on his clothing choice, he’d pull the outfit on, and then head down to one of the kitchens in order to try and convince himself to eat some breakfast. 

Instead of making himself breakfast, he’d usually sit on his phone for about half-an-hour, scrolling through the news as FRIDAY listed off the things he needed to accomplish that day. He never really listened to her, but that was all right, because the AI knew that, and was prepared to remind him of things for the rest of the time he was awake and active. 

Maybe fifteen minutes after he descended upon a kitchen, someone would join him. Usually, it was Steve, and he’d pull some type of fruit out of the fridge, slice it up into several pieces, and push half of them towards Tony, all without saying a word. Because they were there, Tony would eat them, as well as a piece of toast or bowl of cereal Steve handed to him as well. Afterwards, he’d glance at the time on his watch, decide he probably needed to head to the city to reach the Tower, or head down to the lab to get some work done there instead. 

After that, depending on where he was, the day moved either incredibly fast, or very slow. If he was working on a personal project in his personal lab, the hours would race away from him like a fuckin’ Nascar. If he was at the Tower, stuck doing paperwork and listening to people whine, they crept by like an old man with a walker. 

This particular morning, Tony found himself very much not wanting to head to the Tower. As he was drinking the remnants of the milk out of the bowl of cereal that Steve had prepared for him, he declared, out loud, “I’m staying here today.”

Because of the uncharacteristic vocalization of his plans, Steve looked over at him in surprise from where he was eating his own bowl of cereal. “Okay,” he said, carefully. “You working on something?” 

“Not specifically,” Tony answered, walking around the island to wash out the cereal bowl on his own, which was _ also _ uncharacteristic. “I just don’t want to have to drive into the city.” 

Steve frowned. If he knew anything about Tony, it was that he only tolerated going to the Tower for work _ because _ of the drive into the city. Tony loved his cars, took every chance he had to drive one someplace. The very fact that he had just declared that he didn’t want to drive into the city was enough to send up red flags in Steve’s mind. 

“You feeling okay?” Steve asked him, knowing what the response would be. When the question received a snappish “Fine, Spangles,” in answer, he sighed a little to himself, and looked down at his cereal again. Maybe he could get Bruce to talk to him. 

Tony walked out of the kitchen, heading for the elevator. He took it down to the floor his lab resided on, and walked in, greeting all of his robots and FRIDAY enthusiastically. “Good morning, kiddos,” he said, settling down on a stool and swiveling around on it for a moment. “What should we work on today?” 

As FRIDAY ran through the list of work-in-progress projects that he could spend the day on, Tony stared at his phone’s screen. Nothing interesting was popping up, and oddly, the device felt rather slippery in his grasp. He set it down, huffing out a breath of air and trying to focus on the present, rather than on waiting for the email that usually arrived by now, like clockwork.

Still, after maybe fifteen minutes had gone by, during which he’d hemmed and hawed over five different projects before electing to work on a completely separate sixth one, his attention was still half turned towards his phone, waiting for it to vibrate. Another fifteen minutes after that, one-fourth of his attention was on the phone, while the other three quarters were turned to the project. 

All of his attention was jerked awry by a tapping on the glass window of the lab. He turned to see what the distraction was, while simultaneously relocating maybe an eighth of his attention on his phone. Bruce stood outside the lab, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, and the other raised in a wave. Tony jerked his head, indicating that he could come in, and turned six-eighths of his attention back to his project. Once he was in the lab, two-eighths of his attention were dedicated to Bruce, leaving only five on the project, but that was all right. 

“Morning,” Tony said. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing, just thought I’d come check in on you,” Bruce replied, glancing around the lab for a moment. His free hand had found its way into a pocket as well. “Yesterday you said you’d be going to the Tower, so.”

Tony sighed a little. Fucking_ Steve. _“I changed my mind,” he replied simply, allocating an extra sixteenth of his attention to his phone. “Sometimes it happens.”

“Sure,” Bruce agreed. He stood quietly after that, watching as Tony adjusted a few equations he was dealing with on the projection before him. “What’re you working on?” 

“Something goofy,” Tony replied. “I don’t think it’ll actually come to anything, but it…” As soon as the phone vibrated, almost all of his attention darted towards it, but Tony managed to reign two-eighths of it back in, so that the fact that he’d trailed off didn’t linger for long. “Uh, but I figure I needed to work on it for as long as I’m able to before I realize that it’s pointless.”

“Another robot?” Bruce guessed, and Tony’s shoulders fell in relief that his friend hadn’t picked up on the loss of attention. 

“Maybe,” Tony said. “I should be working on the Compound’s security instead, giving that an upgrade.” He adjusted another equation, and then dropped the eighth of attention he’d given to the hologram, sliding it over to Bruce instead as he rotated his body on the stool to face him as well. “What’re you up to today?” 

“Dunno yet,” Bruce admitted. “Still waiting on the results from the plastic dissolving serum I worked out; need to see if there’s an imbalance involved that means it isn’t doing what it needs to be.”

“Mm,” Tony replied. Unwillingly, a twenty-fourth of one of the eighths he’d been holding onto was beginning to inch towards his phone. “If you need any help with that, let me know.”

“Will do,” Bruce agreed amicably enough. They were silent for a moment, and Bruce lost another sixteenth of Tony’s attention in the lapse in conversation. “So, you’re all right?” his friend finally asked, and Tony dragged the sixteenth back over. 

“Yep,” he said. “Just needed another day, is all.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce replied after a moment. “Dinner tonight? We can celebrate.”

“Mm.”

“Guess I’ll take that as a maybe,” Bruce said with a smile that Tony did not notice. He turned, heading for the door of the lab again. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mumbled, and the last bit of attention he’d managed to keep on the conversation slipped to the phone as soon as the door to the lab closed. Tony scooted the stool he sat on over to the workbench where the phone rested, and picked it up. 

\--

_ To: _ _ holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: _ _ youbestoned@arcmail.com _

_ Subject: Good morning!_

_ That’s all I wanted to say, just good morning. Sorry this one’s a little late; I was a bit preoccupied this morning. Hope waiting for my email didn’t distract you too much. _

_ Love, _

_ T _

\--

Tony cursed under his breath, and slumped down over the workbench, phone falling from his fingers. This was _ exactly _ why he’d stopped talking to Ty in the first place. The ass-hat always managed to do this to him, managed to interest Tony enough with his smug commentary and compliments that Tony would become immersed in waiting to see what the next thing Ty had to say would be, even if his own stubbornness refused to let him respond in any way shape or form. 

His sense of self-preservation must have been terrible despite this, however, because he’d willingly developed an app for his phone so that the email network he and Ty had created as adolescents would be viewable on his phone. 

Fuck. It was time to do something about this. 

He sat up after another moment of aggrieved self-pity, and stared down at the email. Maybe all he had to do was respond, tell Ty to fuck off, and that would be the end of it. Ty had said something similar in one of the earlier emails, hadn’t he? That the ball was in Tony’s court? That whatever happened next between them was completely his decision? 

That was probably because Ty assumed that Tony would not be able to resist him. Growing up together, making personal discoveries with one another, did not leave much room for Tony to pull any kind of surprises on Ty; the two of them were too predictable to one another. Any choices that Tony thought he could make had already been thought of by Ty, and would have responses waiting for them, ones that would help Ty get his way. Tony knew him well enough to understand that. 

He’d have to show all his cards, if he wanted results. 

He inhaled, and picked up his phone again. 

-

_ To: _ _ youbestoned@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: _ _ holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _

_ Re: Good morning!_

_ I was distracted all morning. Thought maybe you’d suffered from some sort of self-realization that this wasn’t working out in your favor, and was preparing to throw a party. Pity I have to change my plans now. _

_ T _

\--

About a minute later, his phone vibrated again, and Tony grabbed for it with a haste that he was very much disgusted by. 

\--

_ To: _ _ holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: _ _ youbestoned@arcmail.com _

_ Re: Re: Good morning!_

_ Well, since you have to change your plans anyway… _

_ Dinner? Seven? You can pick the place, and I’ll make the reservation. _

\--

Tony swallowed dryly. 

\--

_ To: _ _ youbestone@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: _ _ holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _

_ Re: Re: Re: Good morning!_

_ Carbone. And make it six thirty. I have to eat earlier in my old age. _

\--

_ To: _ _ holystarkbatman@arcmail.com _ _  
_ _ From: _ _ youbestoned@arcmail.com _

_ Re: Re: Re: Re: Good morning!_

_ Haven’t lost your taste for good Italian, though. I’ll make it happen. See you at six thirty. _

_I missed you. _

_T _

\--

Tony forced himself to put his phone down. He attempted to get back to work, certain that all of his attention could be turned towards it, now that the email had been received, and plans had been made. Unfortunately, at least one-sixteenth of it remained on the last sentence that had come with that final email for the remainder of the day, and even into the evening as he dressed with more care, but not so much that he could hate himself for putting thought into his appearance. 

As he slid a tie beneath the collar of the button-up he’d chosen, he asked FRIDAY to sneak a glance around the lower floors, make sure he wouldn’t run into anyone on his way out. She gave him the all-clear, albeit sounding a bit disapproving, and Tony made a beeline for the elevator. True to FRIDAY’s word, he didn’t come across anyone, and successfully made it down to the garage and pulled away from the Compound. It took about thirty minutes into the drive to the city for anyone to try and get in touch with him, but he declined the call from Bruce, and then ignored the text from Natasha, telling him to answer the phone because Bruce was _ worried, _ dammit. 

When Steve tried to call him maybe five minutes after that, Tony told FRIDAY to put the damn phone on Do Not Disturb, and tried to relax into the seat of the Audi. It was fine. He was a grown man; they didn’t need to know everything about him, everything about what he did. It was _ his _ life, although the rational part of him said that they were only doing so because they were worried about his sudden break in routine. 

Well, _ fuck _ routine, Tony decided sourly. If routine meant he couldn’t do one thing without causing a panic among everyone he lived with, then maybe he _ needed _ to change things up. 

Of course, making the huge fucking mistake of meeting up with Tiberius Stone for dinner was probably not the best way of doing that, but. 

It was the _ easiest _ way, and Tony was nothing if not lazy as hell in his increasingly older age. 

He reached the restaurant in record time, and ducked inside with all the sophistication and lack of brevity that he could manage. The very last thing he wanted to be tonight was visibly eager by the fact that the dinner was happening. No, he’d be relaxed, casual, like he didn’t give a shit. He could do that, had used to do it on a daily basis. 

Of course, that was before he’d internally become a raging, never ending storm of anxiety and depression, but he thought he could handle it for one night. 

The _ maître d’ _ greeted him as though he’d known Tony his whole life, and then escorted him back to a private area of the restaurant. Sitting at the table, dressed rather casually in a suit jacket and slacks (lacking a tie, Tony noted), was Tiberius Stone, who winked at the _ maître d’ _and stood up to shake Tony’s hand. 

“Good to see you again, Tony,” he said, smiling a little as the _ maître d’ _took off. 

“Right,” Tony said, leaning back in his chair. A waiter hurried over, took his drink order; Tony decided to stick with water. Although he trusted his tolerance enough not to become wasted, he wanted to be fully alert during whatever came next, and knew that drinking would not be helpful to that plan. 

Ty did not comment on the lack of Tony ordering his usual alcoholic beverage he liked to have with dinner at a place like this, although he did lift an eyebrow when Tony asked for a lemon in his water. 

“Exciting,” he said, eyes glimmering with amusement. 

“Bite me,” Tony said, not bothering to pick up the menu that the _ maître d’ _ had left on the table near his elbow. 

“Mm, gladly, but maybe somewhere more private,” Ty replied, smirking. 

Tony inhaled. “Ty,” he started, “I didn’t agree to do this because I wanted to sit here and pretend that I’m amused by your antics. I’m here to tell you, once and for all, and for the _ last time, _ to get the hell out of my life.”

Ty blinked for a moment, and then he let out a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “Uh… well,” he started after a moment, “that… I can honestly say that that is exactly what I expected you to say.”

“And I knew you were going to say that,” Tony responded, “so let me stop you before you keep going.” Ty lifted an eyebrow expectantly, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Once upon a time, Tony would have broke down from the very same expression, but the years had hardened him. Everything he’d gone through had made him practically invincible against outside sources. Currently, there was exactly one that still existed in his life that caused even the slightest cracks in his tough foundation, and his name was Peter Parker. 

But he wasn’t present, which meant that Tony had the upper hand. As he sat across from his oldest friend, and more seconds passed that were filled with silence, he could see that Tiberius Stone was beginning to realize this, and as such, a panic was beginning to form behind his eyes, one that Tony could read very easily. 

He smiled without any humor, and opened his own jacket, retrieving the paper he’d gotten in the mail the day prior, after the meeting he’d had with his favorite lawyer and judge in the world two days before. He unfolded it, and slid it across the table towards Ty, like a business proposition. Ty did not touch it. 

“I figured I could hand deliver this,” Tony said, “and say a final goodbye, since this means that if you try to get in contact with me in any way after this meeting is over, if you come within one hundred feet of any of my properties, if you come with ten feet of _ me… _” Tony spread his hands and stood up. “I think you can guess the rest, since you know me so well.” He offered Ty a wink. “See you never, _buddy."_

With that, he turned and walked away from the table, sliding his hands into his pockets. The _ maître d’ _ watched him exit the restaurant with a confused expression that Tony ignored. The valet blinked a few times, when he emerged onto the sidewalk, but Tony merely lifted an eyebrow and held up the tag he’d been given maybe eight minutes prior. The valet nodded, and hurried off to retrieve his car. 

Tony glanced upwards towards the sky, and inhaled. It was no longer difficult for him to keep all of his attention on the present, and he smiled at the easiness of it. He figured it was the least of what he deserved after so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate fractions.


	45. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicia makes another appearance, and Cheri wonders.

**November 9th, 2023 - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 12:35 AM **

Peter sighed to himself, landing lightly on the edge of a rooftop across the street from the most recent building to be robbed. This time, it was the home of an affluent defense attorney. Apparently, the thief had stolen quite a bit of her jewelry, as well as a fairly expensive vase, which had been passed down through her family for generations. 

Her penthouse marked the third location to be robbed since Halloween. Based on the graffiti that they’d found at all the locations, Peter and the officers that were on the case could only assume that the same thief had hit all the places. Peter was beginning to feel very frustrated with himself, considering that nearly two weeks had passed since the first robbery, and he literally had nothing to go off of, aside from the graffiti, which had so far proven to be useless aside from rubbing in his face the fact that the same thief was making moves. 

“Karen,” he started. 

“Yes, Peter?” his AI queried. 

“Have there been _ any _ other sightings of that graffiti?”

“Not since you first went looking,” Karen said, regretfully. Peter sighed, frustrated, and she went on: “If you like, I could alert you the next time new graffiti is reported?”

“No,” Peter muttered. “That’s all right. I just…” He exhaled. “Based on the last three robberies, what would you say will be the next target?” 

“A museum, perhaps,” Karen answered. “The thief seems to be partial to pieces of artwork.”

That was true. There was always some type of artwork missing from the places that were stolen from; whoever it was had taken almost a quarter of the art dealer’s collection, that first robbery. 

“Right,” Peter said. “Okay. Let’s… let’s suggest to the captain that better security be implemented in the Museum of Natural History, and the MOMA. Those two are in the middle of the area that the robberies have been in so far.”

“Got it. Anything else?” Karen asked. 

“No,” he said. “I think it’s time to head home.” Even as he said this, however, his HUD flashed with an alert. “What’s - aw, man.”

“Not heading home after all?” Karen guessed, and Peter exhaled.

“No, doesn’t look like it.” He hesitated for a moment, and then cursed under his breath and started to head in the direction that the supposed drug deal was occurring. “Call Cheri for me.” 

“Got it. Calling Cheri.” His in-mask dialing system rang three times before Cheri picked up. 

“H’lo?” she said, through a yawn. Peter had to smile to himself, landing on top of a streetlight. 

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” he asked, amused. 

“I have to get up early,” she explained, drowsily. “You gonna be late?” 

“Looks like it,” Peter sighed. “City’s busy tonight.”

“It’s always busy,” Cheri said with a sigh. “Any idea?”

“No,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she replied. He could hear her shifting on their bed, and sincerely wished that he was lying next to her. “Wake me up when you get back.”

“I will not,” Peter said. “Go back to sleep, okay?”

“All right,” Cheri murmured. “Love you. Be safe.”

“I will. Love you too.” The call ended, and Peter let out a breath. 

“I’m glad you called her, Peter,” Karen said, and he smiled a bit. 

“Thanks, Karen. Let’s deal with some bad guys.”

**71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 5:12 PM**

Peter bolted upright on the couch as he heard keys in the lock of the front door. He quickly ran his hand through his hair, blinking a few times to wash away any remnants of his nap, and grabbed for his laptop, which he’d slid onto the coffee table as soon as he’d noticed his eyes getting heavy, and promptly pretended to have been doing work. 

“Ned!” a feminine voice exclaimed, and the hair on the back of Peter’s neck raised uncomfortably at the sound of it. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw Ned was holding the front door open for the girl he’d invited to Megan’s party, Felicia. She was grinning at him. “You’re crazy,” she said. 

Ned was smiling, too, although his looked based more in true love and affection than Felicia’s did. Peter resisted rolling his eyes as much as he could. “I’m not,” Ned insisted. 

“Yeah, you are,” Felicia retorted. She walked into the apartment, and Peter knew that the evening was not going to be the relaxing one he’d been hoping for. He debated whether or not he needed to get up and greet them, before one of them spotted him instead, but it was already too late for that. 

“Hey,” Felicia began, and he winced. “Peter. Good to see you again.”

“Yep,” he said, forcing as much politeness into his tone as he was able. He moved his laptop off of his legs and stood, managing a smile. “Felicia, right?” 

“That’s me,” she said, and she glanced around the front room. “Ned said your guys’ place was nice, but I didn't think it was _ this _ nice.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, which he hoped was enough of a non-reply that he wouldn’t have to continue the conversation. He really did need to get some work done, considering he’d only been at the Tower for half-a-day, before Tony had called down and told him to get his ass home. Literally, those were the words he’d used. How his mentor had guessed that Peter was exhausted, he’d never know, and didn’t think he _ wanted _ to know. No doubt Karen had reported it to him, however. 

“I invited Felicia over for dinner,” Ned explained, thankfully stepping in. Peter hoped it wasn’t because he’d realized that Felicia’s eyes hadn’t left him since they’d entered the apartment and she’d noticed him on the couch. “That’s fine, right?” 

Peter shrugged. “I guess? Cheri’s the one who cooks, so.”

“Oh, right, you live with your girlfriend,” Felicia said, and Peter glanced at her again. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Yeah, she’s lived here for a couple of months, now,” Peter agreed. “It’s really great.” 

“I bet,” Felicia said, looking him over. Peter shifted, and then gestured to his laptop. 

“I have to get some work done,” he said, directing this to Ned. 

“Right, no problem,” his friend replied. “Felicia, would you like to see that collection I was telling you about?” 

“You mean your toys?” Felicia replied teasingly. Peter had sat back down, but he could still feel her eyes on him. _ Man, _ he thought to himself, listening as Ned led her away down the hall, to his bedroom. _ No wonder women feel so violated all the time. That’s probably the grossest I’ve _ ever _ felt. _

He was tempted to text Cheri, and let her know that Ned had brought Felicia over, but he partially hoped that he wouldn’t need to, that maybe through some miracle Felicia would decide she didn’t want to stay, and would be gone before Cheri came home. Or, at least, Ned would have the courtesy to text Cheri himself, since he’d been the one to invite Felicia in the first place. 

The idea drifted to the back of his mind as Peter returned most of his attention to the work he’d been doing. He quickly became invested in the project, shifting things around, changing different codes so that they’d work together more smoothly in the final product. He was incredibly grateful when his senses alerted him to Felicia’s return to the living room, before she leaned back over the couch and peered at his laptop screen. 

“Looks complicated,” she commented, just before Peter could turn the screen subtly away from her. 

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” he said, shifting sideways on the couch, away from where she was leaning. 

“Ned mentioned you didn’t stay at the Tower very long today,” Felicia commented. 

“No, I had a late night, last night, and the boss sent me home early,” Peter said. He carefully looked over at her, and regretted doing so immediately. She’d pulled all her hair forward over one shoulder, exposing the side of her neck. He frowned a little, catching sight of a tattoo that looked vaguely familiar behind her ear. 

She reached up, and touched tattooed silhouette of a cat with her fingertips, laughing a little. “Saw that, huh?” she asked, sounding embarrassed, and Peter turned his gaze away. 

“Yeah, it’s - it’s interesting.”

“It’s actually really stupid,” she replied with a sigh. “I had a boyfriend for three years in high school who called me ‘Kitty’. When I turned eighteen, I thought it’d be a cute idea to get a cat tattoo. He broke up with me three months later.” She rolled her eyes. “What a joke, right?” 

“Yeah, uh… sorry to hear that,” Peter said. “Cheri has a treble clef tattooed on her shoulder.” He smiled a bit to himself, picturing it in his mind. “I actually call her ‘Treble Clef’, sometimes.” 

“That’s sweet,” Felicia said. Peter glanced in her direction, and found that she’d shifted down the back of the couch, closer to where he’d moved. Peter tilted away from her a bit, blinking. Felicia smiled. “You must really love her.”

“I do,” Peter said, hoping he sounded as firm as he would have liked to. Even if he had, however, Felicia did not seem to be getting the message, because she did not move. 

“Every woman would be lucky to have a boyfriend like you,” she said. 

Peter started to respond, but before he could, the front door opened, drawing both of their attentions. “Cheri!” he said, jumping to his feet and moving around the couch towards her. “Hey! How was your day?” 

“Fine?” she said, her eyebrow raised. She glanced past him, towards where Felicia was now casually leaning against the back of the couch, her arms crossed. “Hey, Felicia. Nice to see you again.”

“You too, Cheri,” Felicia responded. Cheri noted that the smile she wore once again did not reach her eyes. 

“Did Ned invite you over for dinner?” Cheri asked, silently hoping that the answer was no. 

“He did, actually,” Felicia said. _ So much for hope. _ “I told him that he should have texted you, making sure it was okay, but he insisted that you wouldn’t mind.”

“No, it’s… it’s perfectly okay,” Cheri said. “I was planning on something simple, tonight; I had a pretty long day.”

Felicia cocked her head, shrugging a little. “Anything’s better than ramen noodles,” she said. “I seem to be eating those a lot, nowadays.”

Cheri tried for a smile of her own, failed, most likely, and glanced at Peter, who hadn’t left her side. “I guess I’ll get started on that?” she began, sliding her bag off her shoulder and swinging the door to the apartment shut. She handed the bag to Peter. “Will you take that to our room, please?”

“Of course,” he said at once, and darted down the hall. Cheri frowned a little to herself as she walked out of the main room into the kitchen. She considered for a moment, and then tugged a pot out of one of the cabinets. Some bean burritos would suit everyone’s needs, she thought. 

Peter joined her in the kitchen after a few minutes, during which she’d started the beans. “Sorry,” he murmured, stepping up next to where she stood at the stove. “I was going to text you, but then I got distracted by a project.”

“It’s all right,” Cheri told him. She leaned up on her toes to kiss him. “It’s good to see you. Did Mr. Stark send you home early?” 

Peter frowned a little. “So _ you _ told him,” he said, and Cheri shrugged. “I thought it was Karen.”

“I just saw how exhausted you were this morning,” Cheri explained. “I don’t want you wearing yourself out again.”

Peter’s expression softened. “Thanks,” he said, quietly. “I appreciate it, really.”

She smiled in response. “Just looking out for you, that’s all.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she passed off the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir the beans. “Keep an eye on those while I fry up some tortillas.”

“Yes, Chef,” Peter said, stepping into the space she’d occupied. “I can handle beans.”

“I hope so,” Cheri said. “We only have those cans, so if you ruin them, you get to go out and buy dinner for everyone.”

_ “Ten un poco de fe, por favor,” _ Peter said, and Cheri laughed, nudging him with her hip as she set up her frying pan. 

Still, as she stood next to him, she couldn’t get the scene that she’d walked into earlier out of her head. Felicia had been blocking Peter from view, but it had seemed like the two of them were close, Felicia leaning over the back of the couch towards Peter. Cheri imagined that Peter hadn’t _ wanted _ them to be that close, but that he was too polite to say anything about it. 

Cheri tried to shake it away. Ned and Harry might have thought that Felicia was attractive, and Peter might have thought that, too (Cheri would think he was crazy if he didn’t recognize her beauty, seeing it herself with all her bisexual glory), but he wasn’t as drawn to it as the other two. Cheri knew that. She did. 

So she had nothing to worry about. 

Other than the fact that she was most definitely feeling possessive now and would be doing her absolute damnedest to keep Peter away from Felicia for the rest of the night. She would have been able to watch the beans and fry tortillas on her own, no problem, but the feral woman inside of her had decided to give the bean watching task to Peter in order to keep him in the kitchen, away from Felicia. 

And she hated herself for it. And for the fact that she’d maybe gained a few pounds over the last few weeks and thought they were noticeable, especially around her waist. She needed to hit the gym at the Compound, sooner rather than later. She was almost positive Peter had noticed, and just hadn’t said anything about it, because he was too nice. 

“What’re you thinking about, Treb?” 

She blinked a few times, and glanced up at Peter, who was smiling at her, teasingly. “I’ve been singing badly for the past three minutes, and you haven’t complained once,” he said. 

“You probably weren’t singing that bad, then,” she responded, managing to keep her tone light. She peered into the pot of beans. “You need to stir those more.”

“They’re fine.” She gave him a look, and he made a face. “All right, maybe they aren’t, whatever.” He stirred the beans. “You know best.”

“I do,” Cheri agreed. “Thank you for admitting it out loud.” 

Peter snorted, and she looked back down at the tortilla she was frying, letting out a silent breath. Everything between them was fine. He was not attracted to Felicia, and even if he was, it was only because she was beautiful, and had nothing to do with Cheri. And he _ loved _ Cheri, so she really had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. 

_ But maybe there is something to worry about, _ the quiet, barely there self-conscious part of herself murmured. _ He loves me, but people can fall out of love, especially as they grow to know one another more, and start to learn things about each other that they find less than desirable. Wasn't there a study about the how the number of couples that move in together break-up sooner than couples who don't?_

_ Stop it! _ a firmer, more prideful voice said, sharply. _ Peter knows everything there is to know, and he loves me. There are some things that he probably isn’t the happiest with, sure, but he loves me despite those things. He’s made it clear on more than one occasion that I’m it, for him. Why don’t I accept that, and stop worrying about some blonde floozy who’s supposed to be dating Ned? _

_ A blonde floozy who’s definitely more into Peter, _ the first voice said, speaking more strongly now. _ And I can’t blame her for that. Peter’s handsome, and sweet. He’s the nicest person I know. Who wouldn’t be attracted to that? _

_ Maybe, _ the second voice said, _ but he’s in love with me. He’s in love with _ me, _ not Felicia. I doubt even Ned is in love with Felicia. _

_ Maybe not yet, _ the first voice said, softly. _ But I didn’t love Peter at first, and now look at where I am. Things change. Peter may love me now, but what about a month from now? Or six months? A year, even? If I didn’t love him at first, why can’t he not love me later? _

“Cheri, you’re burning the tortilla,” Peter commented idly. 

_ “Carajo,” _ she hissed, quickly moving the pan onto an unlit burner, and turning the flame off on the one she’d been using. She exhaled, and glanced at him. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“Obviously,” he said, sounding more amused than anything. “It’s okay, I think we have more than enough.” He nodded to the pile that she’d created, and then nudged her with his elbow. “Let’s eat.”

“Okay,” Cheri replied. “Good idea.”

They all ate dinner in the living room, Harry having emerged from his room at some point while Cheri and Peter were cooking. He himself seemed to have gotten over that initial infatuation with Felicia, because he was no more polite to her than Cheri was. Cheri felt a sense of solidarity with him, on that front, which she was grateful for, not that she’d say it out loud. 

Cheri did her best not to pay too much attention to Peter’s interactions with Felicia, but it was hard not to, when Felicia seemed to only want to talk with Peter, despite the fact that Ned was sitting beside her on the floor, and Peter was across the coffee table. Peter didn’t do anything that obviously encouraged her, but the quiet voice inside of Cheri insisted that there must have been something. 

Later, after they’d eaten, and dishes had been done, and Felicia had _ finally _ left, Cheri watched as Peter undressed in their bedroom. She admired his lean form, the dips and peaks of his muscles, smiling to herself a little as she recognized that, if she wanted, she was free to cross the room and kiss him, or, y'know, whatever part of him she wanted. It came with the fact that Peter _loved_ her, and had elected to be with her. 

_ Until he changes his mind,_ quiet voice suggested. 

_ Shut up, _ prideful voice ordered. 

Peter looked over his shoulder at her, grinning a little. “I feel objectified,” he announced, and Cheri forced a laugh. 

“Sorry,” she said. “But I’m not going to pretend I don’t like what I see.”

He turned, walking towards the bed. He crawled onto it, joining her at the top, resting his head on his pillow. Cheri relaxed as well, and reached out a hand, tracing her fingers over the lines of his abs. Peter shifted under her touch, and Cheri glanced at his face, worried. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” he replied. “I’d -” He sighed. “I’d like to, Cher, but I’m still super tired.”

“Oh,” Cheri said. She withdrew her hand. “I wasn’t - I mean, yes, obviously, but I understand.” 

He smiled at her. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Cheri said. “I didn’t… expect it, or anything.” She leaned over and kissed him, gently. “Get some sleep, Queens_ .” _

“Mm, okay,” he murmured, his eyes already closed. “Love you.”

Cheri had to take a moment before responding: “I love you, too. Good night.” She waited for a moment, listening, and exhaled when she finally heard his slow, deep breaths, and recognized them as sleep. She turned the light off, and tried to relax again, even going as far as to close her eyes. 

She lay perfectly still for several minutes, willing herself to fall asleep to no avail. Frustrated, she opened her eyes in the darkness of their bedroom. They settled on Peter’s sleeping form beside her, and for a moment, she was struck with an inane sense of loneliness. 

She didn’t allow it to linger. Instead, she made a decision, and scooted closer to where he lay. When he did not react immediately, she went even farther, resting her head on his chest. In his sleep, Peter murmured something intelligible, but his arm found its way around her, holding her close. 

Cheri smiled to herself, and closed her eyes again. Peter’s chest was warm, comfortable. Laying on it, listening to him breathe, letting herself sync her breathing with his, it did not take long for her to drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates coming later in the day because COLLEGE and TEACHING and CONVENIENCE and also I'm pretty sure more people see the update if it shows up later on in the day so it's also selfish but mostly THE FIRST THREE THINGS.


	46. A Strange Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has an unexpected guest.

**November 10th, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 6:23 PM**

“Yeah, I’m gonna get the bots started, and then I’ll be up,” Tony said, studying the schematics that he’d put the finishing touches on. “Just wanna make sure they know what the goal is with this.” 

“Okay,” Bruce responded, sliding a filing folder into a drawer on a desk. “If you aren’t upstairs by seven I’m coming back down.”

“Whatever, Mom,” Tony said, grinning at him over the top of the blueprint. “I’ll be up. Swear.” 

“I’m holding you to that,” Bruce sighed, but all the same he exited the lab, the door sliding shut behind him. Tony returned his eyes to the schematic, studying it one final time before he nodded to himself, and set it down flat on the nearby work table. 

“FRI, go ahead and scan this, get it over to the boys,” he said, tapping the panel on the edge of the table. A light switched on beneath the schematic, and a 3D version of it lifted over the table itself. “What do you think?” 

“It looks great, boss,” FRIDAY replied. The scanners were buzzing, copying the design. “Anything else?” 

“Nope, just let me know if there’s any issues,” he said. “Or if DUM-E gets hold of a fire extinguisher.” 

“You named one of your robots DUM-E?” Tony spun around at the voice, and let out a breath when he saw Stephen Strange standing near the desk Bruce had been sitting behind, the last remnants of the portal he’d used still fading into the air behind him. The ex-doctor tilted his head, eyebrows raised. “That doesn’t seem very kind.”

“It suits him, believe me,” Tony said, crossing his arms. His heart was still racing from the surprise of Strange's unexpected arrival. “How the hell did you get in here? FRIDAY?” 

“Sorry, boss,” the AI said, sounding apathetic. “I didn’t know until he was already inside.”

“Unfortunately for you, my capabilities are undetectable by your machines,” Strange said, gazing around the lab for a moment. “Not that I’d intrude on your work space unless on a matter of urgency, and I have one.”

Tony smirked. “Ah,” he said. “The all powerful wizard has to ask the tin can for _ help _ with something. Must not be all powerful after all.”

“It’s Master of the Mystic Arts, and please spare me the dramatics, Mr. Stark. I’m only here to ask for your expertise,” Strange said. 

“Aw, Stephen, how many times have I asked you to call me ‘Tony’?” Tony queried, uncrossing his arms and leaning back against the work table. 

“I will continue to call you Mr. Stark until I plan on allowing _you_ to call _ me _ Stephen,” Strange said dryly, eyeing him. “Which is probably close to never. Are you done being a child and ready to listen to my questions like an adult?” 

“Oh, I’m always ready to do adult things, Dr. Strange,” Tony told him. 

Strange pursed his lips. “This is _ not _ a personal visit, Mr. Stark.”

“No, which you’ve made clear,” Tony agreed. He gazed at Strange for a moment longer before sighing a little to himself and waving his hand. “All right, hit me. What could the wizard need help with?” 

Strange settled down on the edge of Bruce’s desk. “My colleagues and I have detected some… abnormalities in the composition of the atmosphere, as of late,” he began. “The readings are similar to what the Sanctorum experienced when the Chitauri attacked New York, which gives us cause for concern.” 

Tony frowned, already forgetting the teasing he’d been doing as he heard this news. “It should,” he agreed, sitting up a little straighter. “When did the change happen?” 

“There was a large peak yesterday, but the subtle shifts began to occur at the beginning of the week,” Strange said. “We’ve been keeping our eye on it, to see if it would fade, but it hasn’t. The sharp increase last night convinced Wong that we perhaps needed to talk to someone who has dealt with creatures that have caused the same spikes before.” 

“Which brings you to me,” Tony said, and because he couldn’t resist. “You’ll always come back to me, Stephen.”

Strange rolled his eyes, and Tony smiled to himself, but walked across the room to a different desk, tapping at the keyboard built into its top. He pulled up some information that they’d collected on the Chitauri over the years, and asked, “So, what was it? Like, different energy levels, or did the literal composition of the air change? Because I don’t think we ever found anything like that.”

“It was a combination,” Strange said, suddenly at his shoulder. To his credit, Tony did not flinch. In fact, he found himself relaxing, a little. “There was an increased amount of argon, as well as a pretty severe energy spurt. We were surprised that the power didn’t go out.” 

“Hm.” Tony studied the information he’d pull up for a moment, before shrugging and turning to Strange again. The doctor took a small step backwards. “Well, the satellites that I built for the sake of knowing if we were being invaded by aliens again haven’t alerted me to anything, but I’ll let you know if they do. Until then, or otherwise, I’d keep an eye on those levels. A friend of mine sometimes causes the same sort of shift, whenever he’s nearby.”

“Yes, you’re referring to the God of Thunder,” Strange agreed, and Tony nodded. “Perhaps that’s all it is, then. Has he made an appearance, recently?”

“No, not since August. We had a wedding he needed to be here for.”

Strange hummed. “How are Doctor and Mrs. Banner?” 

“You could ask them yourself, if you’d like to stay for dinner,” Tony suggested. “We’re all eating together; it’s a Friday night thing here at the Compound. Helps maintain morale or something.” 

Strange looked as though he were actually considering it for a moment, before he sighed, and shook his head. “I should return to the Sanctorum,” he said. “But… perhaps another time.”

“We’d be happy to have you,” Tony said. 

Strange eyed him. “Odd,” he said. “You seem to mean that.”

“I think I do,” Tony replied, frowning a little. “Huh.”

“Perhaps I’ll need to take you up on your offer, and see if it sticks,” Strange said. Was he actually _ smiling? _ Tony didn’t think he’d ever see that happen. “Thank you for speaking with me about this.” 

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Tony said, hurriedly, before he could forget to say anything at all. “Uh… keep me updated.”

“And you’ll do the same, if your satellites do alert you to anything?” Strange asked. 

“Sure,” Tony said. 

Strange nodded, and produced a portal with a circular motion of his right hand. He started to step through it, but paused, and looked at Tony again. “How is Mr. Parker?” 

“Much better,” Tony said with a smile. “I think the scare set him straight again.”

“It’s a shame when that’s the only thing that will do it,” Strange said, and Tony shrugged. 

“I’ll take it, if it means we got the kid back to normal. Thanks again with your help on that whole mess.”

“Well.” Strange glanced towards the portal. “I noticed how important he seemed to be to you, during the… other fiasco.”

“Fiasco,” Tony repeated. “Nice way of putting it.” 

Strange exhaled, and the portal faded from view as he turned back to Tony. “I don’t know if I ever apologized -”

“Apologized?”

Strange blinked at him. “For your… loss.” He winced, a little. “Perhaps that isn’t the right way to refer to it.”

Tony’s eyes had settled on the ground. “It… it sounds right to me,” he murmured. “You don’t need to apologize, Strange, it was… nobody’s fault.” After a moment, he glanced up at the doctor again. “But was it… what we needed to do? Was it the best ending?”

“For everyone?” Tony nodded, and Strange exhaled. “That’s a… a hard question to answer.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tony said, and he shook his head. “Never mind, then. You said you needed to get back.” 

“Yes,” Strange said, and then he straightened his shoulders. “Yes. I do.” He created another portal, and stepped through it. He paused on the other side, and glanced again at Tony. “Tony.” Tony looked at him. “It was the best ending for this version of you.” 

Tony offered him a thin smile. “That’s hard to believe, sometimes.” 

“I know,” Strange replied, quietly, and a little regretfully. “Have a good night.” 

“You too,” Tony returned, and watched as the portal disappeared. He waited a few moments longer before he shook his head, and exited the lab, asking FRIDAY to shut the lights off as he did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't talk to me about the pun in the title.


	47. A Couple's Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot can happen in one day.

**November 11th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 12:07 AM**

Cheri lifted her gaze from the sheet music she was studying as the window to her and Peter’s bedroom raised. After a moment, Peter himself crawled in through it, using only one hand, the other busy cradling his midsection. He closed the window with his foot, then dropped silently to the floor. Cheri almost didn’t hear the muttered curse he released, or the sharp inhale of breath that he took. 

“I love a man in a suit,” she commented, and Peter’s head turned in her direction. She smiled at him, and gestured with her own head for him to sit down on the edge of the bed as she stood up to retrieve the first aid kit they kept in the desk. “What happened?”

“Guy had a knife,” Peter replied, sinking down onto the bed. He removed his hand from his side when she turned to face him, holding gauze and antiseptic. Cheri frowned at the large gash in his side, which had torn through his suit, and Peter winced a little. “A sharp one.” 

Cheri inhaled, and settled down in front of him, pressing the dampened gauze lightly to the wound. Peter tugged his lower lip between his teeth, closing his eyes. 

“This is bad,” she commented after a moment of silence, during which she was unable to get the wound to stop bleeding. “If you weren’t you, I’d say you needed stitches.” 

“It just needs to be wrapped,” he replied, allowing his eyes to open again. “I should get out of my suit first, though.” 

She nodded in agreement, and backed up, giving him some room. Peter stood again, and started to shrug his way out of his suit, wincing a bit with each movement. After watching him struggle, Cheri set down the bottle and the gauze, and stood to help him. Holding the fabric away from his side, she pulled the suit down over his torso. Peter offered her a grateful look, before tugging the suit off on his own the rest of the way, and kicking it beneath the bed, where it would stay until morning. 

He sat down on the bed again, and Cheri retrieved the first aid equipment, dabbing at the gash a few more times before giving up, and going for the spare bandages instead. As she wrapped them around his middle, making sure to do so tight enough that they wouldn’t come loose, she glanced at him. 

“What was it?” 

“Drug deal gone wrong,” he said. “Just some assholes ganging up on a single asshole. He got away, but I got the rest of them. Left the cops some very early Christmas presents."

Cheri smiled a little, and fastened the already self-adhering bandage with a strip of medical tape, backing away again to return everything to the first aid kit. Peter fell sideways onto the bed, grunting as he landed on her papers. He shifted, pulling them free, and examined them for a moment, head tilted. 

“What’s all this about?” he asked as Cheri returned to the bed, pushing against him slightly in order to make room. She laid down beside him, and took the papers back, sighing. 

“I have a competency exam next week,” she explained. “On fingering charts for saxophone, trumpet, and clarinet.”

“You don’t sound very happy about that,” Peter commented, and she shook her head. 

“I’m not.” She glared at the notes for a few final seconds, before she cursed and dropped the papers over the edge of the bed, turning on her side to face Peter instead. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said, and she snorted lightly. 

“It better be. If I fail at them, and don’t pass the final test in December, I don’t graduate.” 

Peter’s eyebrows raised. “That’s harsh.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed, and if she sounded slightly bitter, oh well. “I don’t want to talk about it, though. You should get some rest.” 

“I should,” Peter agreed, but then he rolled over until he was on top of her, holding his upper body up by his elbows so that he wouldn’t crush her. Cheri made a face, and Peter grinned. “I’d rather do this, though.” 

“Peter, you’re hurt,” she said. 

“And?” 

She sighed. “Harry and Ned are already in bed.”

Peter blinked. “And?” he asked, again. 

Cheri gave him a patient look. “I’m _ tired," _she said. Peter huffed, but slid off of her. 

“You’re no fun,” he mumbled, and Cheri smiled to herself, reaching over to pat him on the cheek. 

“If I pass my exam next week, you won’t be able to get me away from you,” she assured him. 

That seemed to do the trick, because Peter’s frown faded, and he leaned up again in order to kiss her. “Okay,” he said, pleased, then reached over her to turn the bedside lamp off.

Shadow fell over them, and Cheri listened for a moment to the sounds of traffic outside the window, eyes open in the dark. She listened to Peter’s breathing, listened for when it evened out, signaling that he was asleep. When she knew that he was, she allowed herself to relax, even shifting closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Peter exhaled in his sleep, and subconsciously adjusted so that she would be more comfortable. Cheri closed her eyes. She hadn’t known what living with someone could be like, but she’d found that it was something she enjoyed immensely. 

Although she and Peter had spent the night together numerous times before she’d moved in with him, there was something different in knowing that they would get to share a bed tomorrow, too, and the night after that, and even the one after that. She liked knowing that when she got back from class, she only had to wait an hour or two for him to get home from work, and then they’d have dinner together, sometimes with Ned and Harry, but sometimes on their own. The domesticity of it was comfortable, like it was something that they’d been built for. 

And even if Peter came home from superhero-ing sometimes and needed her to be a nurse, that was okay, too. She was glad to do it, glad that Peter let her do it. She would rather know that she was helping, than not know that he’d been hurt. And then when he fell asleep before her, and she could fall asleep herself by listening to him breathe, all the better. 

Behind her, she heard her phone vibrate, and she winced a little with the sound, before rolling over. She grabbed the phone, and blinked against its light. A text showed on her lock screen. She sighed, reading it over, before sending a response. 

> _ Director Morpheus: How’s the boy? _
> 
> _ Me: I told you to stop contacting me. _
> 
> _ Director Morpheus: And? _
> 
> _ Me: I don’t work for you anymore. I never did, technically, since I was never paid. Do you plan on paying me? _
> 
> _ Director Morpheus: You know I can’t do that. Everything is out-of-pocket. _
> 
> _ Me: Then stop contacting me. I’m not going to spy on my boyfriend for you anymore. He’s an adult, you’re an adult. You want to know what’s going on with him, call him yourself. I refuse to lose him for the sake of a job that isn’t even a real job. _

Peter shifted, and Cheri tensed, slightly, quickly locking her phone. “Cher?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Right here,” she assured him. 

“Mm, okay,” Peter said drowsily. “Love you.” 

Cheri smiled a little. “I love you, too.” 

Within moments, he’d fallen back asleep, but only after he’d draped an arm over her midsection, his head finding its way to her shoulder instead. Cheri inhaled, and carefully set her phone back on the charger, and did her best to relax next to him. Hopefully, _ hopefully, _ Fury would take this conversation to heart, and stop contacting her once and for all. She was sick of hearing from him once a week, asking for updates on Peter, when she’d _ told him _ that she wouldn’t be his spy anymore. 

If he wanted to know about Peter, he could ask Peter himself. She would not be the middle-man for two grown adults. 

She traced her fingers through the hair on the back of Peter’s head, eyes closing. Soon, her breathing had evened out to match his, and within seconds, she’d fallen asleep as well. 

The dream she had was not peaceful. She stood at the edge of a cliff, staring out over a dark ocean. Behind her, she knew Peter stood, calling to her, asking her to walk away from the cliff. He was waiting for her. He wanted her to go to him. But still, she remained on the cliff, staring at the water below, watching the waves thrash against jagged rocks beneath her, unable to turn and look at him. 

She woke with a sharp inhale of breath, sitting up. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, and she swallowed, wishing that she’d brought some water with her to bed. Next to her, Peter rolled over, humming a soft questioning noise. 

“I’m all right,” she whispered. “Just a nightmare.”

He let out a slow breath in response, falling back into the deep sleep he’d previously occupied. Cheri remained upright for a bit longer, watching the window for a moment. The sun was just beginning to rise outside, and the clock on the bedside table glowed 6:02. She still had plenty of time to sleep, if she wanted it. 

She glanced at Peter again. He’d wrapped his arms around his pillow, hugging it, almost. She had to smile, and she reached out a tentative hand, using one finger to brush back the hair on his forehead. 

_ I love him. _ The voices that had been plaguing her for the last few days said this statement together. It was simply a fact, not something that they could fight over. _ I do. _

_So why can’t I accept that he loves me, too? _

**9:27 AM**

Cheri glanced over her shoulder as movement sounded in the hallway. She smiled to herself and watched as Peter, and then Ned, and finally Harry, stumbled out into the light of the front room of the apartment. Harry was not using his crutches, which annoyed her to no end, but she did not comment on this as they all settled down on the couch. None of them said a single word to one another, but they all reached for the three coffee mugs that she’d set preemptively on the coffee table. 

Harry lugged his booted leg up onto the table, grunting a bit. Ned offered a grunt of his own in response, and Peter muttered something unintelligible under his breath. The other two grunted in agreement, and simultaneously, all three took drinks of coffee.

Cheri had to stifle a laugh against her shoulder. She returned her attention to the pancakes she was currently making, peeking under one and flipping it. The first to finish their coffee was Peter, unsurprisingly. Following close behind him was Ned, who set his mug down on the coffee table and stumbled back in the direction of the hall, probably for the bathroom. 

Harry grumbled something. Cheri could actually understand Peter’s response, this time, although she had no idea how Peter had known what Harry said. “No, you have to leave it on.”

Cheri sighed a little to herself. It was routine by now, Harry asking if he could take his boot off, and Peter telling him no, he couldn’t. It had to stay on at least another two weeks, Cheri knew, after Dr. Banner’s visit to the apartment last Monday to check on the injury’s progress. Harry was going crazy, which Cheri thought would do him good in the long run.

The first batch of pancakes had been slid onto a large plate by the time Ned returned from the bathroom, and Harry limped his way in that direction. Cheri cradled the plate and several smaller ones in her arms, carrying it all into the living room, and setting the whole mess on the coffee table in front of Peter. He made to shoot a web at one of the plates, to grab it from the pile without having to sit up, but Cheri lifted her eyebrows at him. 

“I am _ not _ cleaning webs off of the dishes _ again,” _ she told him. 

Peter pursed his lips, but leaned forward and picked up the plate like a normal person all the same. Cheri nodded to herself, and set down the cutlery she held as well, returning to the kitchen to check on the next batch of pancakes. In the living room, she could hear Ned messily shoving a pancake into his mouth, and she peered around the archway to see why he was rushing. 

“Where’re you going on a Saturday morning?” Peter asked, looking at his friend in confusion. 

“Felicia’s shift starts at 10,” Ned explained around a mouthful of pancake. “I want to meet her at the café with a coffee and a muffin.” He swallowed hurriedly, and said, “Thanks, Cheri, they taste great!” before ducking out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. 

Cheri frowned to herself, and then shook her head, flipping pancakes. Ned had been going to the café where Felicia worked at least twice a week since Halloween, and sometimes he’d be gone for literal hours. Cheri didn’t think the two of them were officially dating, yet, but she assumed it was only a matter of time. 

At least Ned hadn’t brought her back to the apartment again, yet. The last thing she wanted was to deal with another encounter with the blonde, because her niceness only extended so far where Felicia’s interest in Peter was concerned. Despite how much she’d struggled to ignore it, it was plain as day that Felicia thought Peter was attractive. Cheri not could fault her for that, however, because she _ knew _ Peter was attractive, but _ honestly, _couldn’t Felicia at least have been subtle about it? Made it easier for Cheri to ignore?

She knew it was wrong, to think about it that way, since Ned was the one that was vying for Felicia’s attention, and obviously Felicia hadn’t chased him away yet, which meant that she must have been a little bit interested in returning Ned’s affection, but it was hard to shake the idea away. 

Cheri had never been the jealous type - she hadn’t had enough serious relationships to ever really get to that point - but when it came to Peter, she was very protective. He was the first person she’d found herself hopelessly in love with, and the last thing she wanted to do was lose him to some long-legged blonde with pretty blue eyes.

Not that she thought Peter returned Felicia’s interest, because she _ knew _ he didn’t, had been trying to convince herself for days that he was just as in love with Cheri as she was with him, but it was still a worry, especially if Felicia became a frequent presence in their lives because of her growing relationship with Ned. Having her around all the time might… 

Cheri shook the thought away. Felicia was gorgeous, yes, but Cheri knew about and recognized her own beauty. She didn’t flaunt it, didn’t _ have _ to, and clearly it had been enough to attract Peter’s attention, was enough to keep him around for this long. Besides, maybe blondes weren’t even something Peter had an interest in, but even if he didn’t typically fall for them, it would take a blind person not to recognize that Felicia’s looks could make _ any _ head turn, even the ones that belonged to men who weren’t attracted to blondes typically. 

Cheri inhaled, and then promptly cursed as the smell of burning pancakes reached her nostrils. She started, but Peter had already taken the spatula out of her hand and was sliding the ruined breakfast food onto a plate. Cheri took a few steps backwards, sighing to herself and crossing her arms over her chest. She heard the thumping of Harry’s boot in the hallway. 

“Are we burning the apartment down today?” he asked, tone only half-joking. 

“No, it’s all right,” Peter said, and the look he gave Cheri was one of clear concern. It was the second time she’d burned something in a week; he would have been crazy to ignore that, she knew. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry, just… I got distracted,” Cheri replied. She shuffled out of the kitchen, and yelped when her ankle twisted as she tripped over an unknown source. She tumbled to the carpet, cursing wildly under her breath, and tugging her leg into her chest. Her ankle screamed in protest as she tried to rotate her foot, and Cheri bit down on her lip to keep from screeching. 

Peter crouched down beside her in that next instant, eyes wide. “What the hell happened?” he asked worriedly, holding a frozen package of mixed veggies. Cheri glanced over her shoulder. She scowled, spotting the source of her fall. 

“When the fuck did we get a goddamn _ skateboard?” _ she demanded, eyes flashing accusations in Peter’s direction. 

“I didn’t -”

“It’s Ned’s,” Harry sighed from where he’d settled back down on the couch, booted leg once more on the coffee table. “I think he’s borrowing it from somebody he knows. Apparently, Felicia likes to skateboard, so obviously Ned decided he needed to learn how.”

Cheri muttered under her breath, something about ‘fucking Ned and his fucking skateboard loving _ sucia’ _ as she snatched the vegetables from Peter’s hand and pressed them to her ankle. Peter sighed a little to himself, and shoved the skateboard away. It disappeared under the couch. He turned back to Cheri. “Can you stand?” he asked. 

“I can _ try,” _ she grumbled, and Peter supported her weight as she struggled to a standing position. As soon as she tried to set her left foot down on the ground, she hissed in pain, and stumbled sideways into him, dropping the vegetables. 

Peter caught her, and the vegetables, in the same motion. He smiled slightly. “Guess this means a trip to the emergency room for us,” he said. 

“What? No, I’m fine,” Cheri insisted stubbornly. “It’s probably just a sprain.”

“A sprain still needs to be checked on and wrapped by a professional,” Peter told her. While Cheri spewed complaints, he slipped an arm beneath her knees and another around her back, scooping her up bridal style. He forced the bag of vegetables into her hand, and pulled the door to the apartment open with a web, grabbing Cheri’s car keys with another. “We’ll be back, Harry.”

“Yeah, all right,” he said, waving a hand absentmindedly, the other holding a plate stacked with pancakes. 

Peter carried Cheri down the stairs of the apartment and out to her car. He set her down in the passenger seat, ignoring the curses that were flowing freely from her in a mixture of English and Spanish. He walked around to the other side, and climbed in behind the wheel, turning the car on. 

“I hate Ned,” Cheri declared. “Him and whoever that fucking skateboard belongs to. Where did it even _ come from?” _

Peter decided not to respond, and focused on the road. He didn’t really want to take her to the emergency room, he discovered, and he sighed a little to himself, wishing that the Compound wasn’t so far away. Bruce would be able to look at it and come up with the same conclusion as a doctor at a hospital, and he’d wrap it for free if it _ was _ sprained. Since Cheri wasn’t sobbing, Peter had to assume that it wasn’t broken, which was _ something, _ at least. 

He sighed to himself. “Do you have your phone?” he asked. 

“Why?” Cheri muttered.

“Because I need you to call Mr. Stark or Dr. Banner, and tell them that we’re coming to the Compound,” Peter responded, his patience surprising even himself. “Please.”

Cheri did not move for a solid fifteen seconds, during which time Peter sensed her trying to form an argument against his plan. However, she must have failed, because she finally muttered something and pulled out her phone, dialing a number into it. The phone connected to the car’s Bluetooth, and after a couple rings, Tony picked up on the other end. 

“It is 10 o’clock on a Saturday morning,” he said, sounding just the slightest bit annoyed, “and I…” He trailed off and sighed. “And I forgot to sleep last night. Again. Fun. What’s up?” 

“Cheri sprained her ankle,” Peter said, when Cheri did not speak. “I don’t really want to waste time at the emergency room just for a sprain, but I don’t trust myself to wrap it properly.”

“Oh, so you want Bruce to do it,” Tony said. “All right, fine. He could just come to you, since that would take a lot less time and effort on everyone’s part.”

“Yes, please,” Peter said, relief flooding through him. He glanced sideways at Cheri, who sat sullenly in the passenger seat, arms crossed and injured foot resting on top of the dashboard. The bag of vegetables sat on top of her ankle. He could see the bright glitter of pain in her eyes, but outwardly, she expressed none. “She’s not writhing in agony or anything, so I don’t think it’s bad, but I’d like Doc’s opinion.”

“Right.” Tony was quiet for a moment. “Hm. Okay, I’ll send Bruce in a suit, since they fly considerably faster than a car drives, even over the speed limit. He could probably be there in half-an-hour. Your apartment?” 

“Uh… yeah, I guess so,” Peter said after a second. “I shouldn’t’ve… y’know, never mind. We’ll be waiting for him. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Yep.” There was another pause, and then he spoke again, clearly amused. “What happened, exactly?” 

Cheri snapped. “Does it fucking matter? My ankle hurts, who cares why,” she said sharply, sitting upright. She winced as this twisted her ankle in a way that it clearly did not want to, and she fell back against the seat again, glaring at Peter. 

“Get your girlfriend some pain meds, Pete,” Tony said after a moment, not bothering to hide his joy over Cheri’s obvious embarrassment about the way she’d hurt herself. “And a cold compress.” 

“Got it,” Peter said, exhaling to keep from smiling himself. “Bye.” 

Cheri ended the call by tapping angrily at her phone’s screen, and then she crossed her arms again. “So much for carrying me down to the fuckin’ car,” she muttered. God, Peter had never noticed before how thick her accent got when she was pissed. It was kind of hot, actually, not that he needed to be thinking about _ that._

“What’s going on with you?” he asked her, navigating the car back in the direction of the apartment. He shouldn’t have reacted as quickly as he had, should’ve thought of calling someone at the Compound before bringing her outside and down to the car for zero reason. _ Stupid. _

“What, aside from the fact that I tripped over a fucking skateboard none of us own and sprained my ankle?” Cheri retorted harshly. 

Peter let out a breath. Okay, that was reason enough for her to be upset, sure, but he hadn’t seen her this angry in a long time. He considered, and then reflected that no, it couldn’t be because of _ that, _ anger had never been a problem during _ that._ Clearly, something was bothering her, but maybe he just needed to give her space, not try to pressure her into talking about it. 

Peter hated when he didn’t know how to help his girlfriend the way she needed him to. 

“All right,” he conceded, quietly. “But if you want to talk about whatever it _ really _ is, I’m here to listen.” 

Cheri did not respond, and they made the rest of the drive to the apartment in silence. Peter carried her back upstairs, and helped her get comfortable on the couch, before settling down beside her to wait for Bruce. Within the hour, he arrived, complete with a black medical bag. Inside it, he carried plenty of supplies, as well as a miniature x-ray machine. Peter shouldn’t have been as surprised to see it as he was, but he hadn’t been home when Bruce had stopped by to examine Harry’s leg. 

When the imagery came through after maybe five minutes, Bruce took one look at it and smiled to himself. “Well, it isn’t broken,” he announced, reaching into the bag and pulling out a roll of hospital-grade bandages, “but it is sprained, so you’ll need to go easy on it for a few days.”

Cheri allowed him to wrap it without complaining, although her eyes were downcast with annoyance. Bruce didn’t seem bothered by the look. He bound the bandages securely. “Too tight?” he asked, and Cheri shook her head. “Good.” 

Peter watched as he put the x-ray machine away into the bag again. “Do we need to -?”

“A cold compress every few hours, and Tylenol if she can’t sleep,” Bruce replied. He offered Peter a smile. “I’m glad you decided to call, instead of taking her to the emergency room. Doctors hate when people overreact.”

“Better safe than sorry, though, right?” Peter asked, and Bruce nodded. 

“Of course. But… when you have a doctor on-hand…” He gestured to the Iron Man suit that he’d flown over in, which stood in the corner of the apartment, open and awaiting its return journey to the Compound. 

“Right, thank you for coming,” Peter said, shaking Bruce’s hand. He glanced at Cheri, who was studying her wrapped ankle with a sullen expression. “She’d thank you too, but I think she has something on her mind.”

“That’s all right,” Bruce said. “She can thank me by not making her injury any worse.”

“Do you want some coffee or something, before you head back?” Peter asked, and Bruce considered. 

“That’d be nice, thank you, Peter,” he said. Peter nodded, and ducked into the kitchen. Bruce looked over at Cheri, studying her for a moment. 

“You know,” he began, “I think you’re going to drive the boy mad, if you don’t speak to him about whatever’s bothering you sooner rather than later. He’s going to think it has something to do with him.”

“Stop psychoanalyzing,” Cheri muttered without looking at him. 

“Sorry, but it is something that I have a degree in, so you could probably trust my opinion,” Bruce responded. “You’re lucky Peter’s willing to be patient with you. Anyone else would have had enough by now, I think.”

“It’s been an hour,” Cheri huffed. 

“I think we both know it’s been longer than that.” She did not reply, and Bruce sighed. “I’m not anywhere close to a relationship therapist, Cheri, but I know enough to offer advice, so here it is: talk to him. He wants to help, in whatever way he can, and the fact that you won’t let him is going to drive a wedge between the two of you, especially if your problem does lie with him, somehow.”

Cheri let out a breath. Her dream from the night before jumped into her mind, and she shook it away just as quickly. She knew that Peter could very well hear this conversation, if he wanted to. She had no doubt, either, that considering the circumstances, he most likely was listening in. So, rather than have to say it straight to his face, she figured maybe saying it to Bruce while Peter pretended not to hear was the best option. 

“It isn’t a problem with him directly,” she admitted. “Just… the attention he can attract. It isn’t his fault.”

“No, it doesn’t sound like it is,” Bruce agreed. “Which should make it easier for the two of you to talk about.”

Before Cheri could respond, Peter returned from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He handed it to Bruce, who smiled in thanks, and took a drink from it. He glanced between the two young adults for a moment. 

“Do you want to talk about it with an unbiased third party in the room?” he finally queried. 

“You’re offering a couple’s session?” Peter asked, trying to keep his tone light and failing horribly. 

“If you need it,” Bruce said with a shrug. He took another sip of coffee, leaning back against the wall. “It’s on the table.”

Silence ensued for a moment, until Peter inhaled and said, “What kind of attention?”

Cheri’s shoulders tensed, but only a little. “From… y’know. Other women,” she mumbled. 

Bruce saw an expression of immense hurt cross Peter’s features. “You know that I would _ never -” _he started, but Cheri cut him off with a shake of her head. 

“I do,” she said, tightly, “which is why I hate that it’s such a big issue for me.” She let out a breath, and looked down. “I think the real problem I have is with myself.”

More silence. Bruce waited for one or the other to speak. When neither did, even though that he could clearly see that Peter wanted to say _ something, _ he cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, “perhaps we can talk about that, then. Cheri?” 

“Yes?” 

“Is there something that Peter does that you think might attract this unwanted female attention?” Bruce asked. 

She snorted. “No,” she said. “He’s attractive, but he’s one of the most socially awkward people I’ve ever known, so I don’t really know what the draw is other than his looks, but it’s clearly something. Whatever it is worked on me, anyway, even if it wasn't at first.”

Bruce glanced at Peter, but he didn’t seem as though this information was new to him. Of course, Bruce shouldn’t be surprised by that fact; they had known one another for years. 

“Peter, is there something that _ you _ think you’re doing, to attract unwanted female attention?” he asked. 

“I didn’t even know that there was unwanted female attention,” Peter admitted. He sounded a bit helpless. “I don’t - is there something specific you want to bring up, Cher? Because I can’t… I can’t think of anything.” Cheri did not reply, merely glanced over at him. Peter studied her for a moment, before he sighed, shoulders falling. “This is about Felicia, _ Ned’s _girlfriend.”

“She isn’t his girlfriend yet,” Cheri murmured, “and it… I don’t know. On Halloween, it just seemed like she was paying more attention to you than Ned, or even Harry, and they were both trying to _ get _ her attention.” She fiddled with the corner of a bag of frozen vegetables, which Bruce imagined weren’t frozen any longer. “You were only in the same room as her for ten minutes, and I could tell. And then at dinner the other night, it was even more obvious.”

“But I didn’t - she’s not -”

“Peter, you _ know _ that she’s gorgeous,” Cheri interrupted, dryly. “You’re not blind.”

“No, but I didn’t… I didn’t _ fall _ for it, like Harry and Ned clearly did,” Peter responded, an edge creeping into his tone. “Why would you even think I’d do that? You’re everything, Cheri, and you _ know _ that.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say!” Cheri exclaimed. _ “I’m _ the problem, here, not you.” 

“But you don’t _ need _ to be,” Peter insisted. “I just… I thought you knew that I’m, y’know, hopelessly in love with you, and that I don’t have to constantly be reminding you of it, even when there are other women around.”

Bruce frowned a little to himself. He looked at Cheri. “Is this a self-esteem issue?” he asked, and Cheri bristled. “It’s a valid question,” he said, taking another drink of coffee. “If you doubt that Peter is dedicated to the relationship, but not because of anything he does, then it must have something to do with yourself. Do you think you aren’t enough? That you don’t have the looks, the personality? Or… or does this stem from something different?” 

“Like what?” Cheri demanded. 

Bruce hesitated. “Maybe… maybe you aren’t as dedicated to the relationship as Peter is, and you’re worried he’ll see that, and decide that maybe it means he’s free to be attracted to other women, move on from you.”

Cheri’s eyes went dark with rage. “How - what the _ fuck?” _ she spat. “How dare you even _ suggest _ something like that?” 

Bruce gazed back at her, impassive. “I’m just trying to look at all the different possible issues,” he said, “in hopes to get to the root of the main problem.”

Cheri glared at him. “I am in love with Peter,” she said, darkly. “He’s the only person I’ve _ ever _ been in love with. Why would I be worried about losing him if I _ wasn’t, _ if I didn’t want the relationship to last?” 

“So then, it _ is _ a self-esteem issue,” Bruce concluded after a moment of silence. 

Cheri started to curse, and Peter moved over to the couch, stepping in front of her and crouching down so that he was at her eye level. “Hey,” he started, quietly, and Cheri’s eyes turned towards him instead, still blazing. 

For some reason, Bruce felt as though he was trying to have a civil conversation with the Tony from ten years ago. It was all very similar, her intense reaction to the very idea that she didn’t think as highly of herself as she thought she did. Bruce knew that Tony had felt the same, once, until he’d realized just where all his faults lay, and had understood that he had already recognized them himself, and hated himself for them, but didn’t want to admit it. 

“Cheri,” Peter was saying, when Bruce brought himself back to the present. Peter had taken one of Cheri’s hands. “Listen to me,” he said, voice low and gentle. “Neither of us is perfect. There are things I’d change about myself, and I know that you would change things about yourself, too, if you could. But what makes our relationship so strong is the fact that we _ love _ the things about one another that each of us would like to get rid of. Do you see what I’m saying?” 

Cheri gazed at him for a moment, the fire slowly fading from her eyes. She did not look away, however, even when she’d completely calmed down. Instead, she reached over the couch and cradled his face in her palm. “Yes,” she whispered, “but I - I can’t help but think that maybe I’m not good enough. You’re a genius, handsome, funny, and the kindest person I’ve ever known. I don’t think there’s a selfish bone in your whole body. I don’t… sometimes, when it comes to the things I’ll do, I just… I have to wonder why you picked me, and maybe if you should have been able to choose someone else.”

Peter let out a soft laugh. “Goof, I didn’t _ want _ to choose anyone else,” he said, affectionately. “I followed _ you _ to the library that day, remember? I asked _ you _ to go see the movie with me, held _ your _ hand. I made all the moves, in the beginning.” A look of uncertainty finally invaded his features. “I thought that when you reciprocated, it meant that you wanted me around, were glad that I’d… y’know. Made a move.”

Cheri closed her eyes for a moment. “It was the best thing to ever happen to me, Peter,” she whispered. 

“So then what are we even talking about?” Peter asked. “I love you. I have for… well. Years, if we’re being completely honest. I don’t plan on ever not loving you. So please don’t ever think that there’s something about you that might push me away, because you are what’s keeping me around. Every single part of you.” He squeezed her hand, just for a moment. “All right?” 

Cheri swallowed, painfully. Her throat stung with tears that desperately wanted free, but she would _ not _ be crying on top of everything else. She managed a nod, and leaned over the couch, pulling him forward so that she could kiss him. Peter let out a breath of air through his nose, resting his forehead against hers. 

Bruce, who’d quietly snuck out of the room once this conversation had started, re-entered the space, having cleaned out the coffee cup in the sink in the kitchen. He picked up his bag, from where it rested on the ground next to the couch. 

“I think I’ll head out, now,” he said. “I’m sorry for inciting a conversation.”

“No, don’t be,” Cheri murmured, pulling away from Peter to look at him. “I’m sorry I got angry with you, Dr. Banner. Thank you for coming, to fix my ankle.”

“No problem,” Bruce said. “Remember, no excess activity or walking on it for a few days.” 

“Do you want me to - ?” Peter began, starting to stand, but Bruce held up a hand, silently gesturing for him to stay where he was. 

“I think I can find my way,” he said. “You two enjoy your Saturday.” He walked over to the Iron Man suit, placing the bag into one of its opened fists, before stepping into it. Almost at once, it closed around him, and disappeared out the open window of the front room. 

A moment of silence passed between Peter and Cheri once he was gone, during which neither of them felt they needed to say anything. They merely looked at one another, half-amused, half-exhausted by the events of the morning, which wasn’t even over. 

Peter turned towards the sound of movement in the hall. Harry blinked at them both from it, leaning heavily on a single crutch. He looked as though he’d just woken up. Again. “What - did I _ miss _ something?” he asked, blearily. 

Cheri giggled, and Peter broke down into chuckles as well, unable to help himself. Harry looked between the two of them, face clearly showing just how crazy he thought they both were. Without saying anything else, he turned, using the crutch as a pivot point, and disappeared back down the hall. 

Peter turned back to Cheri. He gazed at her for a second longer, before leaning up enough to place a kiss on her forehead. He then stood entirely, gesturing to the bag of vegetables. “I should get those back in the freezer,” he said. “Maybe I could go and buy an actual compress.”

“That might be a good idea,” she murmured in agreement, handing him the vegetables. As he headed to the kitchen to put them away, her voice followed: “I think they sell them in packs of two.”

“That’d be nice, so that we can always have one on hand. I can’t believe we don’t already have at least one,” Peter said. He walked back into the main part of the room. “Do you mind if I take your car?” 

“No,” Cheri said, softly. Peter nodded, and went to retrieve her keys, after patting his pockets to make sure that he had his wallet and phone. “Peter.” He paused, and glanced back at her. Cheri looked heartbreakingly sad. “I’m so sorry.”

“What? Why are you apologizing?” he asked, putting the keys back on the rack and returning to the couch. 

Cheri lifted her shoulders. “I just… we shouldn’t even have needed to have that conversation,” she murmured. “If I wasn’t -”

“Hey,” Peter said, hopping over the couch and settling down beside her. “Stop it, okay? I should know by now that you sort of need constant validation. It’s your love language, or whatever. I have to be better about it, that’s all.”

“No, Pete, this isn’t… it isn’t a one-sided thing,” Cheri insisted, reaching for his hand. Peter let her take it. “I need to do some things better, too. I need to… I don’t know. There’s a lot of things.” 

“Okay.” Peter thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. “Yeah. The biggest one is that you need to let me know when you start to feel like… like maybe you’re not good enough, for me, when you start to feel like there’s even the smallest chance I might break up with you or whatever, because you think there’s something you did, or you think that I’m more interested in someone else.”

“Peter -”

“I mean it, Cheri,” Peter said, cutting in before she could start to argue. “I’m going to try to be better about making sure you don’t have to feel that way, but if you ever do, I want you to tell me, so that we can work it out together. That’s what a relationship is, solving problems together, and anytime that you start to wonder if this relationship is enough, that’s a problem _ we’ll _work through. I don’t want it to get to this point again, because let’s face it, Treble, you kind of have a thing about bottling up your emotions until they cause a small implosion.”

Cheri let out a quiet laugh, and Peter smiled. “So… together, okay? You promise?” She gazed at him for a moment longer, before raising her fist, pinkie up. Peter smiled, and hooked his own around it. Cheri returned his smile, then leaned forward and kissed him. Peter let her, and then he exhaled, resting his forehead against hers for a second. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. He separated their hands and stood. “I’m gonna go get that compress. Need anything else?” 

“... some sort of candy,” Cheri said after a moment. Peter grinned. 

“You got it. Be back in a bit.”

Cheri watched him leave the apartment, whistling a little as he went, and then she buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she finally let the tears flow free. At least she wasn’t crying out of fear, or anger, or because she was sad. _ This _ was the real implosion, of bottling up her feelings; maybe she needed to cry more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
I guess the world can't stop turning, but. Y'know. It feels like it should, sometimes.


	48. Resident Father Figure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has two conversations.

**November 14th, 2023 - Stark Tower - Broadway & W. 58th St., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 12:42 PM**

“Okay, but, look.” Peter pointed to the screen that he and Tony were currently standing in front of. “There’s going to be a conflict between these two.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Tony said. 

“It is absolutely not fine,” Peter insisted. “There’ll probably be a small explosion!” 

“Well, we won’t know for sure until we test it, so,” Tony responded, and he walked away from the screen towards the center of the room. Peter sighed a little to himself, but followed his mentor, crossing his arms. 

“Really don’t think this is a good idea,” he mumbled. 

“Nonsense, poopy pants,” Tony said, holding up his wrist, finger positioned over his watch. “Ready?” 

“No,” Peter sighed, and he took a couple of steps away from the device in the middle of the room. “But go ahead.”

Tony tapped the face of his watch, and the two of them studied the device as a barely visible shield started to appear around it, spreading outwards about five feet. Tony joined Peter, smiling and gesturing. 

“You see?” he queried. “I told you it was fine.” The device clanked, and then groaned, before pieces of the shield interlocked where they weren’t supposed to. Peter turned his head sideways as the machine reacted violently to the friction. It shuddered, then burst into flames.

“Oops,” Tony said after a moment. Peter merely walked over to the fire extinguisher sitting beneath a worktable, and fired it towards the device. The flames died out easily, and he lowered the extinguisher, looking sideways at his boss. Tony rubbed his hand through his hair, frowning. 

“I told you,” Peter said, feeling a bit cocky. Tony turned his frown in Peter’s direction instead. 

“Yeah, you did,” he admitted with a sigh. “Dammit.” He walked towards the smoking remnants of the security device, giving it a gentle kick. “Now we’ll have to rebuild the whole thing.” He shook his head to himself, and looked at Peter again. “I should’ve listened to you. Sorry.”

Peter merely shrugged, setting the extinguisher down again a safe distance away. “At least we know where to go from here,” he said. 

“That’s true,” Tony agreed. “Good looking on the bright side, kid.” He walked away from the device, back towards the screen that showed its blueprint. “Should have another one ready by tomorrow…”

“Mr. Stark? Are these - this isn’t for, like, mainstream use, right?” Peter asked, and Tony shook his head. 

“No. Right now, I’m just trying to see if it’ll work for the Tower. Once we can do _ that, _ maybe I’ll implement something similar around the Compound. Eventually, I’m sure the government will come after it for buildings in D.C., but for now, it’s just for us.” He tilted his head, frowning at the screen for a moment. “FRI, can we fix that issue Pete spotted?” 

“Sure, boss,” FRIDAY replied. “Anything else?”

“Just make the change, and then get the bots started on a new one,” Tony replied, crossing his arms and stepping back. “Hopefully it’ll work the next time we give it a shot.” 

“Got it,” FRIDAY said. Tony turned back to Peter, who’d joined him. 

“How’s Cheri’s ankle?” he asked. 

“It’s better,” Peter said. He smiled. “She hated not being able to do anything, but I think it did her good, having to just relax.” He shook his head. “Not that it mattered. She was back on her feet yesterday. Harry wouldn’t stop complaining that he missed being the only invalid.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “How’s that been?” 

“What, having Harry around?” Peter shrugged. “Fine. The same as it always was. He wants to be able to get started with this second part of the story, but he can’t while he’s still dealing with his leg. He should be able to take the boot off sometime next week, Doc said.”

“Well, that’s good,” Tony said, and Peter nodded. “And Ned’s doing okay, too?”

“Better than okay, I think,” Peter replied. When Tony raised his eyebrow, he snorted. “He has a girlfriend. Kind of.” 

“Wait, wait, our Ned has a _ girlfriend?” _ Tony demanded, and Peter nodded. “Wow! Good for him.”

“I guess,” Peter said, toying with the sleeve of his shirt. He had both rolled up to his elbows, but somehow the cuffs were black with grease. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just -” He sighed. “I don’t know. She’s weird, that’s all. I’m not really her biggest fan. Cheri isn’t either, but that’s because she thinks Felicia’s into me, which… I don’t? We already had a fight about it, and it’s done, but it… it kind of brought to light some serious issues that Cheri had, with herself and our relationship.” He gazed at the floor for a second, before shaking his head a little. “I don’t know, it was weird. We talked, though, and I think it’s better now. She’s better.” 

He glanced over at Tony, realizing that he hadn’t tried to speak throughout Peter’s brief monologue, and found his mentor studying him, a small smile on his face. Peter frowned. “What?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” Tony replied, his smile growing. He turned away. “It’s just good to hear that you’re figuring things out, that’s all.” 

Peter relaxed, and even smiled himself. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “I - I wish she’d just talk to me about it, rather than hold it in until it kind of exploded the way it did, but… I think we’re past that happening again.” He looked at Tony once more. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” Tony asked. 

“I mean, did you figure out whatever was bothering you?” Peter questioned. “And don’t pretend there wasn’t anything, because I know there was. I know _ you, _ Mr. Stark.” 

Tony gazed at him for a moment longer, before he let out a laugh and looked away. “Yeah,” he said. “I - I figured it out. Thanks for asking.” 

A moment of silence settled between the two of them. Peter exhaled. “You’re not going to tell me what it was, are you?” he asked. 

“Nope,” Tony replied. 

“Why?”

“Because you don’t need to know.”

“But -”

“Kid,” Tony said, and Peter’s shoulders fell. 

“Fine,” he mumbled, turning away. “Forget it, then.”

Tony exhaled. “Pete, it isn’t because I don’t trust you, or something stupid like that. It’s just that it’s _ over, _ and you really don’t need to know.”

“But if it’s _ over, _ then why wouldn’t you tell me?” Peter asked. 

“Because if it’s _ over, _ what’s the point in you knowing?” Tony retorted. More silence. Tony reached over and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Listen,” he began, “it’s finished. I handled it on my own, which is what I needed to do. I took some precautions, to make sure that a dangerous individual stayed away from me, from my company, everything. I dealt with it, it’s done. Okay?” 

“I guess,” Peter sighed. 

“Well, y'know, you saying “I guess” makes me think that it _ isn’t _okay,” Tony said. 

“I just wish you could trust me with things,” Peter explained.

“I trust you with more things than anyone else.” Peter made a face. “Okay, except for maybe Bruce, but he tells Nat everything, now, so I can’t tell him as much anymore.” Tony shook his head. “The point is, this is just something that I don’t think you need to know about.” 

Peter inhaled, slowly, and glanced sideways at him. “Fine,” he said, quietly. “I don’t need to know.” He gestured towards the machine with his head. “Should we get that cleared out of the way?” 

“Yeah, probably,” Tony responded after a moment. “Let’s do that.”

They worked in silence, moving pieces of the destroyed security device away from the middle of the room. Eventually, Peter paused, resting his hands on his waist. “What’s happening for Thanksgiving?” he asked, and Tony snorted a little. 

“I have no idea,” he replied. “Bruce and Natasha decided they wanted to go visit his aunt. Wanda and Vision aren’t coming back to New York, since they were just here for the wedding. Steve said that we could still do something, if we wanted, but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“Ah,” Peter said, looking down at the floor. “All right. Just asking.”

Tony studied him as he went back to work, lugging large scrap metal out of the way. “Did you plan on something happening at the Compound?” he asked.

“What? No, I -” Peter stopped himself, let out a breath. “I was actually asking to make sure that there _ weren’t _ plans. Cheri’s mom and _ abuela _ invited me to their Thanksgiving.”

“Oh,” Tony replied after a moment. “Got it.”

“Sorry,” Peter said, sounding a little worried. “It’s just… they asked May, too, and I don’t think it’d be cool for me _ not _ to go, so -”

“Hey, kid, it’s all right,” Tony said, putting up his hands. Peter’s shoulders fell. “Seriously. It would not make sense for you not to have Thanksgiving dinner with your girlfriend’s family. Especially since your aunt was invited, too.”

“I just know it’s sort of been a thing for us to all have it at the Compound, the last few years,” Peter murmured. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me not coming.”

Tony waved his hand in the air. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Besides, I don’t even know if we’re having a Compound dinner, so I’m glad you made other plans.” He smiled. “I hope you have a good time.”

Peter smiled back, relieved. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said. “I’ll talk with Cheri, see if she might want to do Christmas at the Compound.”

“That’d be great,” Tony agreed. He paused. “Am I allowed to get her a Christmas present?” Peter sighed, and Tony grinned, patting him on the back. “Just kidding. Of course I’m allowed.”

Peter started to argue, but Tony pretended that he couldn’t hear him, walking back over to what remained of the device, whistling loudly. Peter shook his head in exasperation, and joined him. 

Once they’d gotten the mess cleaned up, they headed for the door of the private testing rooms that they’d been using on the lowest R&D floor. “So, you want to get some lunch?” Tony queried, but before Peter could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, and let out a quiet groan. Tony frowned. “What is it?”

“Another robbery,” Peter mumbled, frowning. He glanced up from his phone. “I should probably head over there.”

“What, the thief struck in the middle of the day?” Tony asked, not believing it. 

“No,” Peter replied. “This couple was out of state for a few days, and they came home an hour ago.” He paused. “So… it’s possible that this isn’t the same person. I don’t know if I’d like that better or not.”

“You got nothing on them, huh?” 

“No,” Peter admitted. “Just some graffiti that they leave behind every time.” He sighed. “I should go.”

“Yeah, probably,” Tony said. He glanced around for a moment. “All right, I’ll handle everything here.”

Peter’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “See you later.” He turned and jogged off, towards the elevators, no doubt so he could grab his bag from the floor where R&D had their personal workspaces. Tony watched him go, hands in his pockets. So much for having lunch, he supposed. 

Unless…

He pulled out his phone, sent a text.

> _ Me: Hey, are you busy? _

After a couple of moments, it buzzed in his hand. 

> _ Peanuts: No. Oh, God, wait, should I be? Did you ask me to do something for you? Not that you’d have any reason to do that, and I definitely wouldn’t have forgotten about it if you had, but… remind me anyway? _

Tony had to smile to himself. He missed having Cheri around. 

> _ Me: No. I was just texting to see if you wanted to meet up for lunch. I was going to go with Peter, but he has a thing. _
> 
> _ Peanuts: Oh. Cool. I could do lunch. I don’t have class again until later this afternoon. Where do you want to go? _
> 
> _ Me: Did you really just ask me that question? _
> 
> _ Peanuts: Maybe you need to stop eating Chipotle so much. _
> 
> _ Me: I’ll have you know that I haven’t had it in a solid… five days. _
> 
> _ Peanuts: I’ll meet you at the one on 56th. _
> 
> _ Me: Sounds good. See you there. _

He headed for the elevator, tapping the side of his glasses so that he could speak to FRIDAY. “FRI, could you send an email to Peter’s higher-ups, let them know I cleared him of the rest of his day?” 

“No problem, boss,” FRIDAY replied. “It’s been a bit since you’ve seen Cheri.”

“I know,” Tony replied, stepping into the elevator. He hit the button for the ground floor of the building. “It should be fun.”

He made it to the Chipotle in record time, and settled down on a bench outside to wait for her. Her Honda pulled up into a spot maybe ten minutes later, puffing. It clattered grouchily as she turned it off and climbed from it. Tony lifted his eyebrow at the noises. 

“Car okay?” he asked, standing and walking over to where she was swiping her debit card through the parking meter next to the spot. 

“Yeah,” Cheri replied, “it’s just getting old.” She cursed, and gave the card another swipe. The parking meter beeped denial at her. “Mother fu-”

“Here,” Tony said, pulling out his own card and swiping it instead. The meter beeped happily this time, and Cheri turned to him, distaste on her face. 

“You did not have to do that.”

“Sure I did,” he responded cheerfully. “And I’m buying lunch, too.”

“Mr. Stark -”

“Hey, I invited you, remember?” Tony queried, walking over to the restaurant and pulling open the door for her. “I think it’s kinda my job to buy the food, in that case.”

Cheri sighed, but all the same entered the building. The line was surprisingly short, considering it was lunchtime and they were at the busiest Chipotle in Manhattan. 

“I can afford parking,” she told him. “I don’t know why the meter denied my card.”

“Things’re finicky,” Tony replied, unbothered. He pulled some money out of his pocket. “You remember my order?” 

Cheri finally cracked a smile, taking the money from him. “How could I forget it?” she asked. Tony offered her a pair of finger guns in response, and then he sauntered off, sinking down into a seat at a table. He watched Cheri move through the line, ordering their food, and he smiled a little to himself. It felt just like old times.

Meaning… four months ago. Time moved so slowly, sometimes. He supposed he didn’t mind that, necessarily.

She walked over to the table a few minutes later. Tony grinned when he saw that she was carrying a bag of chips along with their food. “Yes,” he said, taking it from her. “You’re literally the best person I know.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Cheri said, sitting down across from him.

“You are absolutely right,” Tony agreed after a moment of thought. 

“Peter Parker,” they said together. 

Cheri smiled a bit, poking at her bowl. “Thanks for texting me,” she said. “I’ve actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

Tony looked up from his own food, eyeing her. “Talk to me about what? The last time we sort of had a conversation like this, bad stuff happened.”

“This isn’t bad,” Cheri assured. “It’s just something I wanted to bring up, and make sure that you were okay with.” She paused, watching him, and when Tony nodded a little, gesturing for her to go on, she did: “I asked my mom if you could come to Thanksgiving, to, like, surprise Peter?”

“Oh.” 

“She said no.”

_ “Oh.” _ Tony leaned back in his chair. “And you wanted to ask if I was okay with the fact that your mom said no?” 

“Yeah,” Cheri sighed. “Was that stupid of me?” 

“No.” He lifted his shoulders. “But you didn’t have any reason to tell me about it at all.” She looked down at her food again, and Tony tilted his head. “Am I supposed to not be okay with it?” 

“I don’t know,” Cheri admitted. “I guess I just wanted to give it a shot, having Peter’s and my families together in the same place for a holiday, but I don’t… well, I _ know _ that won’t be happening anytime soon.” She glanced up at him. “I can try again at Christmas?” 

Well, okay. That was - Tony’s chest hurt, and he was pretty sure it was in a good way, since plenty of time had passed since he’d walked to the Chipotle from the Tower. He did his best to disguise the feeling by looking down at his food again. 

“That’s… y’know, I appreciate that, Peanuts,” he said, “but if your mom doesn’t want me invading your family’s space during holidays, then maybe it’s better if I don’t try.” 

“But it - you’re part of Peter’s family,” Cheri said. “If we’re going to be having big gatherings during the holidays, it doesn’t make sense for you to not be there.” 

Tony smiled a little. “Thanks,” he said. “But if I was your mom, and I knew the Tony Stark from college, and _ only _ that Tony Stark, I wouldn’t want him around at holidays, either.” Cheri looked crestfallen, and Tony went on: “Cheer up. Maybe someday it’ll work out like that, after I’ve had the chance to meet your mother and show her that I’m not the same boozy drug addict that she probably knew in college.” 

“I wish she’d realize that based on… well, everything,” Cheri said quietly. “You _ saved the world.” _

“Yeah, well, we also took a month to figure out how to bring back half the living population after we weren’t able to stop them from disappearing, so.” She made a face, and Tony reached across the table, patting the back of her hand. “We’ll get there,” he said. “Maybe not this year, but soon. All right?” 

Cheri exhaled. “Fine,” she said. 

“And if not, I’ll meet her when you and Peter get married, and she’ll _ have _ to like me.” Tony paused. “Well, no, she’s still totally allowed to not like me, but I mean, she’ll have to give tolerating me a try. Maybe.” 

He was mollified when Cheri offered him another smile. “Yeah, okay,” she replied, and then she turned her attention to her food. 

They ate for a few minutes without speaking. Tony was glad that they were still in a place where they didn’t need to talk to enjoy one another’s company. All the same, he had to ask. 

“How’s your ankle?” 

Cheri immediately looked up from her food, and frowned at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Haha, so it was embarrassing, whatever happened,” Tony concluded with a grin. He dunked a chip into his bowl. “Spill.” 

Cheri stared at him for a moment longer. “This never leaves this Chipotle,” she finally said. Tony leaned forward conspiratorially, eyebrows raised behind his glasses. She glanced around, and then said, “I tripped over a skateboard.” 

He blinked, twice, doing his best to hold back the smile that very much wanted to break onto his face. Cheri let out a sigh. “You can laugh.” 

Tony did, his head falling back and his laughter ringing around the Chipotle. He received several looks ranging from confused to annoyed, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t laughed like that in a while. 

“Oh my God,” he managed, still snickering a little. He wiped some tears from his eyes. 

“Yep,” Cheri said, rolling hers. “Let it all out.” 

Tony chortled a few more times, snorted, and then cleared his throat. He picked up his fork again, calmly, and poked at his food for a moment. “How did it happen?” he finally asked her. 

“I don’t know, it was in the middle of the floor, I wasn’t paying attention, and I tripped!” Cheri replied. “And it hurt pretty bad!” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Tony said. “What happened to Peter being able to sense danger for you?” 

“He was in the kitchen,” Cheri mumbled, picking at a piece of steak. “He was really attentive afterwards, though. I think he felt bad.” 

“He’s good about that sort of thing,” Tony said. “Being there for people.” He noticed the subtle change in Cheri’s expression, and lifted an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Nothing,” she said, a little too quickly. 

“Cheri.”

Her shoulders fell. “Did he tell you about the fight we had?” 

“He may have mentioned a fight, yeah.”

She shook her head. “I was being stupid, but Peter assumed there was something that he needed to do differently, which was the complete opposite. There was nothing wrong on his end, it was all me.” She pushed her bowl aside, and rested her chin in her hand. “I hate that he blamed himself for my problem.”

“Did you tell him not to?”

“Of course,” Cheri replied. “Do you think he listened?” Tony didn’t have to give an answer. “It’s fine now, I guess, but I’m worried that he’s overcompensating. He’s been so busy lately, with work, and with protecting the city, and our relationship. I think he’s wearing himself out.”

“And we don’t want that happening, because it might lead to a repeat of the issue we just finished dealing with,” Tony concluded. When Cheri nodded, he exhaled. “He’s known to take on too much, but… I don’t know. It all sounds important.” He thought it over for a moment, and then lifted his shoulders. “I could give him an extra day off for Thanksgiving, if you think that might help him recover?” 

“It would,” Cheri said, “and I’d appreciate you doing that, but it won’t change anything. What we need is for this stupid thief to stop robbing so many places. Peter’s been out almost every night looking for anything that might reveal where they’re going to hit next. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t slept longer than four hours in three days.”

“Maybe I could ask one of the others to help him with it,” Tony said, and Cheri looked at him. “I mean, it would help, right?” 

“Yeah,” Cheri replied, slowly, “but… the only reason that Peter’s even involved is because of his connection to the chief of police. I don’t know if they’d let one of the Avengers in, too.” 

“I mean, Peter’s technically an Avenger,” Tony said, and when Cheri offered him a look, he conceded, “but he is more of a neighborhood superhero, you’re right. If this thief was going after the capitol building, or something big like that, maybe we could help, but… yeah, you have a point. While it’s still close to the ground, the police will prefer not to make it a big deal.”

“Exactly,” Cheri said. “That’s sort of what Peter said, when I suggested that he talk to you about getting help.” She gazed down at her food for a moment, despondent. “He’s so selfless, I love him.” 

Her tone gave Tony cause to laugh again, and she looked up at him, confused. “What?” 

“You just said that, like, so sad,” he said, snorting. “You shouldn’t say that someone is selfless and that you love them in such a sad cadence!” 

“But I am sad,” Cheri retorted. “He has so much on his shoulders, and it makes me worry, because he’s selfless, and I love him for it, but he literally won’t say no to anything he feels a responsibility for!” 

Tony’s smile softened. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed, quietly. “He’s, uh… he’s an amazing kid.” His chest started to hurt once more, and he very quickly put some food into his mouth before the feeling could spread up into his throat. When he’d swallowed, he looked at her again, and said, very earnestly, “I’m glad he has you looking out for him.”

Cheri met his eyes. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and the dimple on that cheek showed itself. “I try my best,” she said.

They finished their food, and then headed outside again. Cheri inhaled the autumn air, shivering a little in her coat. Tony was glad to see it looked new, rather than the one he’d seen her wear a few times before. He wondered if she had been the one to buy it, or if Peter had gotten it for her. 

“Thanks for lunch,” she said, turning to him. “It was good to see you.”

“I am always down to have lunch with you,” Tony answered. “Ooh, maybe we could be like those old ladies that have lunch together once a month or whatever.”

“May and my mom do that,” Cheri said, and Tony blinked in surprise. 

“Really?” She nodded. “Oh. I didn’t know they knew one another that well.”

“I think that’s the reason they decided to start doing it,” Cheri replied. “We introduced the two of them maybe a year ago, and they’ve been getting lunch once a month since.” She looked down, kicking at loose piece of the sidewalk. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“No, it’s - that’s cool,” Tony said at once. “Cool that the guardians eat lunch, like one another. A good relationship on that end is better for everybody.”

Cheri glanced up at him. “You want to be part of those lunches, huh?” 

Tony’s shoulders fell. “Maybe not _ all _ of them…” She smiled sadly, and he let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have a right to feel that way.”

“Of course you do,” Cheri responded. “You _ are _ part of Peter’s family. He thinks of you as a dad, Mr. Stark.” 

“Weird that he calls his father figure ‘Mr. Stark’,” Tony said, lightly, and Cheri lifted her eyebrow. “Yep, sorry, that was me trying to alleviate the heaviness of the topic. Damn, I _ really _ need to stop doing that.”

Cheri gazed at him for a moment, before she exhaled, and shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do, all right? I want my mom to accept the fact that you’re part of this, and to at least _ try _ and get to know you. I’ll talk to her.”

“You don’t need to,” Tony said. 

“I want to,” Cheri told him. She nudged him with her fist, lightly. “Thanks again. See you.”

“Bye, Peanuts,” Tony replied, watching as she walked around her car and climbed in behind the wheel. He cringed as the engine rattled when she turned it on, and then watched her pull out of the parallel parking spot, and drive away. He then stuck his hands in his pockets, and walked in the other direction, back towards Columbus Circle and the Tower. 

He would have liked to be included in the families-getting-to-know-one-another dynamic. Obviously. He knew that Peter thought of him as a father, and it was a role he took on with pride, because Peter was such an awesome kid. Peter had chosen Cheri to be in his life, which meant that all that came with Cheri, including her family, were in his life, too, and vice versa. Since Tony was part of Peter’s life, he was technically part of Cheri’s as well. It would be nice to be treated like it. 

He let out a breath. Maybe someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone tell that I'm not a scientist and/or engineer and have no idea how to include that side of characters within the writing aside from vague statements and explosions?


	49. Thanksgiving With The Schultzes & Parkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Cheri have Thanksgiving with his aunt, and her mother and grandmother.

**November 23rd, 2023 - ** **225 Schermerhorn St., Brooklyn, New York, NY, USA - 4:48 PM**

Cheri watched Peter in worry as his head drooped, and he yawned widely. He’d been out very late the night before, dealing with a robbery at the Met of all places. The thief had actually left behind more than graffiti: a series of hard to detect traps, that Peter had had to pass through and disable before the police could get inside the building. At the end of them, of course, had been the signature graffiti left behind each time. Cheri knew that the comical cats were starting to get on her boyfriend’s nerves. They were like a bad punchline, waiting at the end of a very repetitive joke. 

May clearly noticed that her nephew seemed to be exhausted as well, because she continued to look over at him, and then at Cheri, a frown on her face. Cheri could merely lift her shoulders in response to the look of worry. She’d asked Peter if he wanted to skip Thanksgiving, but he’d refused, saying that it would have been rude to her mother and grandmother. Cheri knew they would have understood, but he’d been insistent. 

It was the first time that he was around both important figures in her life at the same time. Cheri knew, realistically, that Peter never would have cancelled. Although both her mother and _ abuela _ liked him, Peter still felt the need to… well, impress them, Cheri supposed, which was ridiculous. 

And he wasn’t exactly doing much impressing with the way he was sitting on the couch in her mother’s living room, half-asleep. 

_ “Máma, uno momento,” _ she murmured to Isabel, who stood beside her in the kitchen. They were both busy with different tasks, meant to be focused on finishing the final touches for dinner, but Cheri was having a hard time keeping an eye on the _ ropa vieja, _ a dish they included with dinner every Thanksgiving, as the main course. No one in her family was a fan of turkey. They _ loved _ mashed potatoes, though, which were actually very tasty with _ ropa vieja _ on top. 

Isabel glanced towards Peter, and then at her daughter. She smiled a little, and nodded her permission. Cheri gratefully exited the kitchen, passing Abuela, who took up Cheri’s job without saying a word. Cheri walked over to the couch, scooted past where May sat at one end of it, and settled down next to Peter. He startled a bit, when the couch shifted as she sat down, then noticed it was only her, and relaxed again. 

“Pete,” she began, quietly, resting her hand on his thigh. “Why don’t you head into the spare bedroom and take a nap? We still have maybe a half-hour before dinner’s ready.” 

Peter blinked a few times, and sat up straighter. “No, I’m okay,” he said, inhaling. “I’m good.” 

“Peter, you were asleep three minutes ago,” May said gently from Cheri’s other side. “You need to get some rest.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he insisted. “I was just… dissociating.” 

Cheri and May exchanged a glance, before Cheri turned back to him. “I know that this thief is giving you a lot of trouble,” she said, “but… maybe you could take a break, for a couple of nights. At least until you’re better rested.” She moved her hand to his arm, rubbing it with her thumb. “Please. You’re worn out, and it’s worrying us.”

“But they could do something different,” Peter said. “They just robbed the Met _ last night, _ Cher. I have to find them, find everything they’ve stolen so far, and stop them before they take anything else.” He shook his head slightly. “I can’t take a break, not while this person is out there. What if they decide to move onto a bigger target, like… I don’t know, sensitive information from the capitol or something?” 

“Peter -”

“May, I know you’re worried,” he said, meeting his aunt’s eyes, “but I’m fine. Seriously. I’ve been through worse.” Cheri felt May stiffen, behind her, and Peter looked down. “Sorry,” he said, more quietly, “but it’s the truth.” He glanced up again, and met Cheri’s eyes this time. “I have to stay on top of this.”

“How on top of it can you be when you’re this exhausted?” Cheri asked him. Peter did not respond, and she leaned her head against his arm. “It’s just a nap,” she whispered. “Thirty minutes. I don’t think the person who robbed the Met last night is going to do anything major in those thirty minutes, or even tonight. They’ll take a break, keep a low profile.”

“That’s nice to imagine, isn’t it?” Peter asked, dryly, and Cheri sighed outwards. “Besides, I can’t just go take a nap in the middle of Thanksgiving.” 

“Everyone’s noticed that you need some sleep, Pete,” Cheri said. “They won’t mind.”

He looked over at May again, for a moment. She offered him a look that clearly said he needed to go take that nap right _ now. _ Peter’s shoulders fell, and he glanced at Cheri. “Will you come with me?” he asked, softly. 

“I should probably help with dinner,” she responded, but then her grandmother walked into the room, a dish towel draped over one shoulder. 

“The _ ropa vieja _needs a bit more time,” she said. “Cheri let the beef toughen up while she was distracted by something.” Cheri rolled her eyes to herself, and batted away the dish towel when Abuela threw it at her head. “As such,” the old woman continued, settling down in one of the armchairs near the window, “we’ll be waiting for a while longer.”

“Does Máma need help?” Cheri asked, and Abuela shrugged. 

“You know how she is.”

“Just as stubborn as you. And me,” Cheri concluded. Abuela smiled a little in response, and Cheri returned it, before looking at Peter again. “A nap sounds good to _ me, _ anyway.”

He looked pacified, at least, knowing she was free to go with him. After another moment, Peter stood, offered Cheri his hand. She took it, relieved, and nodded to May when she gave Cheri a grateful look. Abuela tilted her head knowingly, watching them go, and then she looked at Peter’s aunt. 

“Those two,” she said, and that was all that was needed for May to nod in agreement, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. 

Cheri closed the door of her old bedroom behind the two of them, and then turned to face Peter. He stood at the edge of what had been her bed, clearly uncertain. She smiled a little to herself, and went to him, sliding her hand once more into his. 

“It’s a bed, Queens,” she said, teasingly. “You can lay in it. That’s what it was built for, in fact.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of me,” Peter complained. “I’m too sleepy to fight back.” He looked down at the bed again, before sighing to himself and falling down onto it with a huff. Cheri settled down beside him, with a bit more grace, shifting until she could lean against the wall. Peter scooted around for a minute, finally settling down with his head in her lap, eyes already closed. 

Cheri ran her fingers through his hair, smiling to herself as she took him in. He worked so hard, received very little credit for it, and just kept going. She’d meant it, when she’d told him he was the most selfless person she knew, and he continued to prove it with each passing day. 

She leaned down, until she was just close enough to brush her lips against his forehead. He hummed softly in response, and she sat up again, resting her head back against the wall, allowing her own eyes to fall shut. She wished that there was some way for her to help him, more than what she was doing now, sitting with him as he took a nap that was much shorter than one he deserved, _ needed, _ even. He wouldn’t let her help, however, even if she could think of some way that she could. 

Sighing, she passed her hand once more through Peter’s hair, before moving it away entirely. Peter rolled over onto his side, pressing his face into her stomach, breathing outwards in a way that she was very familiar with. It indicated his descent into deep sleep, and she hoped it would last until someone came knocking on the door, to let them know that dinner was ready. 

At least she could keep watch until then, make sure he was afforded even this tiny moment of respite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it odd to be writing about Thanksgiving in January? 
> 
> No, not really, considering I wrote this and the next chapter back in November, but.


	50. Thanksgiving With The Avengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has... Thanksgiving? Sort of?

**November 23rd, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 5:32 PM**

“Tony?” He looked up from the patent rough draft he was reading, and found Steve standing in the doorway of his office. He gestured with his head. “I made a turkey.”

Tony snorted. “Of course you did.” 

“It’s not a big one or anything,” Steve went on, ignoring the dry comment. “Just 10 pounds, but I thought I’d come up and ask if you wanted to eat with us.”

Tony sighed, and glanced at his watch. Wow, had it really been that long since he’d woken up and eaten the bagel that Steve had passed him in the kitchen that morning? He hadn’t even noticed. How long had he been sitting behind his desk? 

He looked at Steve again, and scowled when he saw the expression on his face. “You know what, screw you,” Tony said, picking up the patent. “I’m going to say no, just because of how sanctimonious you look, right now.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Screw you,” again, for emphasis. 

Steve sighed to himself, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. “Tony -”

“Busy.”

“Tony, you haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Steve said. “It’s Thanksgiving. Come have dinner with us.”

“Not hungry.”

There was a moment of silence. Tony fully expected the argument to continue on for at least another five minutes. So, it was a very large surprise when Steve sighed after only maybe fifteen seconds. 

“Fine,” he said, putting up his hands. “We’ll be downstairs if you change your mind.” He turned and left the doorway, leaving the door open. Tony glanced up, once he was sure Steve was gone, and let out a breath. He _ was _ hungry, but the last thing he could do was go out in search of food, even if that food was not what Steve had cooked, although Tony could smell the damn turkey from his office and it smelled delicious. 

He closed his eyes, and shook his head to himself. He could fight it. He’d gone _literal_ _days _without eating before, this would be no problem. Even though he’d always never noticed he hadn’t eaten until Pepper had dragged him out of the lab in order to force some sort of sustenance into him because he was distracted by something. The patent wasn’t _nearly_ distracting enough. 

Tony huffed. He needed food. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on the floor beneath his desk, StarkPad in hand. On the screen was a visual of what DUM-E was seeing as he guided the bot to the first floor kitchen. 

“Yeah, that’s it, buddy,” Tony said. “The refrigerator. Get some food out of there, and then bring it to Papa.”

The robot beeped in understanding, and scooted along the hardwood floor closer to the fridge. It booped, indicating that it had no idea how to get the fridge open. “Yeah, hold on, I got that covered,” Tony said, and he typed in a quick command into FRIDAY’s Compound directive. The fridge popped open easily, and he smiled to himself. “I’m a genius.”

DUM-E poked through the fridge for a moment, coming very close to a leftover container of lo mein, which Tony would have been very okay with. “That’s fine, bud,” Tony said. “The box is good.” DUM-E beeped, reticle turning back to the takeout container. “Yeah, that’s the one.” 

DUM-E let out a low boop that might have represented disapproval. “Hey, hey, you’re not in charge of my diet, DUM-E, all right? Bring Papa the lo mein,” Tony said, tapping the StarkPad. A small arm reached out from DUM-E’s metal body, and scooped up the container. DUM-E chirped frantically in surprise and excitement at the discovery of the latest extension. 

“Don’t overheat,” Tony said. “I don’t know if I’m letting it stick around.” DUM-E booped, and he sighed. “All right, if we get this food upstairs to me, you can keep it.” 

DUM-E whirred around in a circle, overjoyed. Tony smiled again, despite himself. “Head to the elevator,” he said. “We’re almost in the clear.”

DUM-E did as he directed, starting out of the kitchen towards the elevator, the door of the fridge swinging shut. Tony let his shoulders relax, feeling pretty pleased with himself. Of course the plan had worked, obviously, but he was pleased to know that he’d probably be able to pull off something like this again, if necessary. 

DUM-E reached the elevator, the doors of which opened as soon as the robot neared, preemptively waiting on the first floor thanks to another command from Tony’s base of operation. “I’m a hero,” he murmured to himself, watching as the robot rolled into the elevator. “Right up to the fourth floor we go.” 

He went to type in the command that would override the elevator being called to any of the other floors, before it could deliver DUM-E to the fourth. Before he could, however, the StarkPad pinged with the alert that someone had pushed the button on the second floor. Tony cursed, and frantically typed the command that would halt elevator operation. 

“Command input failure,” FRIDAY said from the StarkPad’s speaker. 

“What? No!” Tony said, and typed the command in again. 

“Command input failure,” FRIDAY repeated. 

“Stop it! I want my lo mein!” Tony exclaimed, holding the edges of the StarkPad tightly in his hands. He watched through DUM-E’s retinal display as the elevator doors slid open on the second floor, revealing Sam. He frowned, seeing the robot. 

“What’re you doing in the elevator?” he asked, stepping into it and hitting the button for the third floor. DUM-E beeped in response. “And why’re you carrying a takeout box?” 

Tony cursed under his breath, and then hit the key that would allow him to speak through DUM-E. “Sam, hey. Listen, I forgot to eat today, and so DUM-E’s just helping me out.” 

Sam lifted his eyebrows. “You were too lazy to come out and get food yourself?” he asked. 

“... or maybe the owner of the multi-million dollar corporation was _ too busy _ to come out and get food for himself,” Tony retorted, typing in a quick command that would send the elevator to the fourth floor, first. 

“But not too busy to hold a heist with one of your robots, right?” Sam questioned, crossing his arms. 

Tony made a face. “Shut up,” he said, as the door of the elevator opened up onto the fourth floor. “Enjoy your lame turkey. DUM-E, my office.” 

The robot beeped its understanding, and rolled out of the elevator, down the hall to the door of his office. Tony scooted out from under his desk and opened the door. “Yes, we did it,” he said, grinning. “Good job, buddy.” He took the takeout box from DUM-E’s claw. “Head back down to the lab.”

DUM-E spun around cheerfully, and disappeared back down the hall and into the elevator. Tony closed the door of his office again, and returned to his desk, popping open the container. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said aloud, and then dumped some of the noodles into his mouth. They were cold, and Tony briefly wondered if he could have had DUM-E microwave them. The answer was _ probably, _ but it was too late, now. Cold noodles were better than no noodles. Good to know, though; maybe he'd just install a microwave into his office. 

While Tony scarfed down the lo mein that he’d successfully garnered from the first floor kitchen, the other three occupants of the Compound who were present were sitting down around a table that Bucky had set up on the third floor. Steve carried the turkey he’d cooked to the table, and lifted his eyebrow when he saw Sam’s expression. 

“What?” he asked, and Sam shook his head. 

“Stark stole some lo mein from the fridge downstairs,” he said. “Told me to enjoy my lame turkey.” 

Steve frowned. “When did he do that?” 

“It was _ technically _him,” Sam amended. “He had one of his robots do it for him.” He laughed. “Gotta hand it to the guy; when he refuses to do something himself, he goes all out.” 

Steve let out a breath, exchanging a glance with Bucky. His partner lifted his shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you, Steve,” he said. “Stark’s stubborn.”

“Yes, I _ know _ that,” Steve said, “but it’s Thanksgiving. He shouldn’t be locked in his office, eating leftovers. From three days ago.” He shook his head, and carved off some of the turkey, piling it onto a plate. He also spooned some mashed potatoes and green beans onto the plate as well. 

“Steve,” Bucky started, “if he said he didn’t want any, maybe you shouldn’t force any on him.”

“I’m not,” Steve replied. “I’m just… making a preemptive move.” He walked away towards the kitchen, leaving Bucky to turn to Sam. He shrugged. 

“Guy’s too nice,” he said, and then he tugged the turkey towards himself instead. 

Steve covered the plate he’d made with cellophane, and stuck it into the fridge. He then returned to the other room, and took a seat, accepting the plate that Bucky passed him. “Thank you.”

“What’d you do?” Bucky asked. 

“Prepared some leftovers,” Steve answered, and he gestured. “Could I have the corn, please?” 

Tony studied the camera of the third floor kitchen, mostly to make sure that Sam didn’t tell Steve and Bucky what he’d done, so that Steve wouldn’t come by yelling at him for not eating real food. Instead, he watched, suspicious, as Steve returned to the kitchen, covered a plate with clear wrap, and then stuck the plate into the fridge, before walking out of sight again. 

Tony frowned a little to himself, looking at the empty takeout container for a moment, before he cursed under his breath and climbed to his feet. Fucking Steve and his delicious food, too tempting to resist. He’d have to be _ stealthy _ about it, however. 

He crept across his office, and pulled open the door. He stuck his head out first, and looked up and down the hallway, before stepping out of the room entirely. After taking the elevator down a floor, he snuck down the hall, leaned against the wall, and peered around it, into the kitchen. It was vacant, obviously, and he could hear the other three men in the next room over, chatting away as they ate their food. 

Tony set his gaze on the fridge. _ Just get over there, grab it, and go, _ he thought to himself. _ You can do it in literally ten seconds. Starting… now. _

Tony scurried towards the fridge, slipping across the floor in his socked feet, feeling like Tom Cruise in _ Risky Business. _ He stumbled in front of the fridge, and yanked it open, grabbing the plate in one hand. He spun back around, swinging the door shut, and slipped his way back over to the hall, diving into it, plate held out in front of him like a football, just as Steve wandered into the kitchen again in search of the salt and pepper shakers. He caught sight of Tony’s feet just before they disappeared from view, and he smiled to himself, picking up the shakers. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Tony,” he said, and then he turned and left the kitchen again. 

Tony reached the elevator and clambered inside. He leaned heavily against the rear wall, inhaling and exhaling. He looked down at the plate of food he’d grabbed from the fridge, and smiled a little to himself.

“I’m _ definitely _ a hero,” he decided, exiting the elevator on the fourth floor, to eat in his office. Maybe while watching _ Risky Business. _It’d been a while since he’d seen that movie.

Halfway through the food, his phone chirped from the edge of his desk. He reached for it, and grinned when he saw who the text had come from. 

> **Peanuts: **Happy Thanksgiving. Thankful for you, for him. 

Alongside that, Cheri had sent a picture of a dozing Peter, which Tony was relieved to see. The kid needed the rest. He sent her a quick text back. 

> **Me: **Right back at you. Thanks for keeping an eye on him. 

He then returned his attention to his food, and the movie, although it was a lot worse than he remembered it being. 

Oh well. 


	51. An Evening With Peter and Cheri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans for Christmas are made.

**December 15th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 4:45 PM**

Cheri pushed her way into the apartment, swinging the door shut with a shove of her foot before she collapsed onto the floor, probably more dramatically than necessary. “This semester,” she began, hoping that as much damsel in distress as she wanted was being portrayed in her tone, “was the longest semester of my entire life.” 

When there was no immediate response to her languishing, she lifted her head, and looked around the front room in confusion. There didn’t seem to be anyone on the couch, and when she turned to her left, there was no one in the kitchen, either. 

“What the hell…?” She returned to her feet, holding her bag by the strap, and looked around again, just to make sure that she wasn’t seeing things. On her second glance, she saw that she was, in fact, _ not _ seeing things, because there was nothing to see. The front room of the apartment was empty. 

“What the hell?” she repeated, a bit more frustrated now. She stalked across the room and down the hall to her and Peter’s bedroom, and threw open the door. 

“Jesus!” Peter exclaimed, spinning around in the desk chair, which he was sitting in at the desk, working on something on his laptop. He blinked at her. “What the hell?” 

“Why is the living room empty?” she asked, dropping her bag on the floor. “I came in, ready to complain about my horrid finals experiences, and there was no one to complain _ to.” _

Peter let out a breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I had to come in here to work, though. Felicia and Ned were here, earlier, and she wouldn’t stop talking to me.”

“Oh.” Cheri crossed her arms. “I see.”

Peter turned back to his laptop. “Don’t start this again, Cher, please.”

“Start it _ again?” _ Cheri demanded. “Pete, it never _ stopped. _ She’s a _ nightmare!” _ Peter merely shook his head, and she gestured sharply towards the door, which had swung closed behind her. “I mean it. The next time I come home, and you have something to complain about, I am going to go _ all _Washington Heights on her ass.”

“Treb, you only lived in Washington Heights until you were eight,” Peter reminded her. 

“Those first eight years of life are _ very _informative,” Cheri retorted. “I know how to cut a bitch. And I will.”

“No, you won’t,” Peter said, “because as much as I love you, I cannot condone you… doing that.” Cheri snorted, and he turned the chair around again to face her. “Seriously, it doesn’t bother me, so it shouldn’t bother you. That’s what we’ve been working on for the last month.”

Cheri stared at him for a moment longer, before she sighed and rolled her eyes upwards. “I know,” she said, “it’s just that I’m tired of Ned not _ doing _ anything about it. He _ has _ to have noticed it by now. Why hasn’t he asked her to back off?” 

“Maybe it’s because there isn’t really an issue,” Peter replied. 

“There isn’t - are you kidding? This is the fifth time in the last two weeks that you’ve mentioned she hasn’t stopped talking to you while she’s over here!” Cheri exclaimed. “How has that not completely ruined Ned’s self esteem?” 

“Cheri, this is literally the happiest Ned has been since he didn’t get into the graduate program,” Peter said, carefully. “I don’t know what he sees in her, considering, but it’s obviously something, and I think we need to be supportive of him. Because he’s our friend and we care about his happiness. Right?” 

Cheri tried to maintain her grouchy expression, but failed. Her shoulders slumped. “I guess so,” she muttered. 

Peter smiled a little, and stood, walking over to her. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Besides,” he said after a moment, “we’re headed to Washington Heights in a few days. Just the two of us. And Abuela. But mostly just the two of us.”

“Right,” Cheri agreed, her face hidden against his chest. “And then we’re spending Christmas Eve with May, so that’s good.”

“And then Christmas Day, we’re spending the morning at your mom’s, and then we’re heading to the Compound for an over-nighter.” Peter shrugged. “We could even make it several over-nighters, if you’d like. Maybe even stay there until New Year’s?”

“Mm,” Cheri hummed. “Far away upstate, away from devils with blonde hair?” 

“Exactly,” Peter said. He slid his hands down to her waist, and Cheri lifted her head, looking up at him, circling her arms around his middle. “So?”

“So…” She trailed off, and then sighed. “It’s fine. I don’t have to cut a bitch. I guess.” 

“Good,” Peter said. He placed a kiss on her forehead. “And Harry said that he’s coming with us to May’s on Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, good.” Cheri paused. “I didn’t get him a present.”

“That’s all right,” Peter said with a shrug. “He didn’t get us anything, either.” When Cheri lifted her eyebrow in question, he tilted his head back and forth. “I… may have poked around his room just to make sure so that we wouldn’t have to worry about getting him anything.”

“Ah. Good call.” Cheri pulled away from him, sinking down on the edge of the bed to pull off her snow boots. “What about Christmas day?” 

“He was actually invited over to the Allans’,” Peter said, and Cheri looked up in surprise. He nodded. “Yeah, right? Kind of crazy.”

“Well, good for him,” Cheri said, pleased. “I wonder how he managed that.”

Peter lifted his shoulders. “You’ve known him longer than I have.”

“Yeah. Which is why I’m so confused.” Peter chuckled, and Cheri grinned, laying down. She gazed up at the ceiling of their room for a moment. “What’s up with the thief?” 

“It’s like you said it’d be,” Peter said. “They haven’t struck again since Thanksgiving.” He crossed his arms and paced back and forth for a moment. “I’m kind of worried. They could be taking the time to set up something even bigger than the Met.”

“Or… it could also be like I said, and they decided to lie low after such a big target,” Cheri suggested, lifting her head slightly to look at him.

“Or maybe it’s my thing,” Peter responded, and she sighed, settling down again. “I don’t know what to do, Cheri. What if they hit someplace while we’re in Washington Heights? Or while we’re _ upstate?” _

“Then we’ll handle it,” Cheri said. “You worry too much, sometimes, I think. It’s almost Christmas. Let’s just… focus on Christmas. Especially since it’s been almost a month without another robbery and you have no reason to be thinking about it, other than the fact that _ I _ brought it up, and dammit, I wish I hadn’t.”

Peter looked at her, smiling slightly. “Yeah, probably shouldn’t have.” He lifted the arm he wore the watch she’d given him on, checked the time. “You got back later than normal, even with your finals.”

“Oh, yeah, the snow was a bitch,” Cheri responded with a flippant wave of her hand. 

Peter moved to the bed, and settled down over top of her, leaning up on his elbows. Cheri still grunted comically, and made a show of pushing at his shoulders. “Too tired. Had three finals today. Get off.”

“But… we won’t be able to have sex until after Christmas,” he said, sadly. “That’s no fun.”

“What’s “no fun” is taking three finals on the same day,” Cheri responded. “I just wanna go to bed.” Peter gazed down at her, blinking, and Cheri groaned. “Don’t look at me like that,” she complained. “I’m actually super not in the mood, Pete, and we know how lame that can be.”

“Yeah, it can be lame,” Peter admitted with a sigh. “All right, fine.” He started to roll off of her, but Cheri quickly grabbed his arms before he could. He looked at her, frowning in confusion, and she shrugged. 

“I mean, we can still, like, make out.”

He grinned. “Yeah, okay, that works,” he said, and he shifted back to his original position.

* * *

A little while later, as they both stood in the kitchen, Cheri keeping an eye on the beef that would be going into tacos and Peter cutting up tomato, she glanced over at him. 

“What do you think about maybe inviting Mr. Stark over to my mom’s on Christmas?” she asked. 

Peter looked at her. “I think it’s a nice idea,” he said, “but only if your mom’s okay with it.”

Cheri exhaled, turning back to the beef. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Wait, you were just going to invite him _ without _ asking her if it was okay?” Peter questioned, horrified by the prospect. 

“I mean, yeah,” Cheri said with a shrug. “It’ll be Christmas. All the people important to us should be comfortable sharing the same space on Christmas.” 

“I agree,” Peter said, “but… we both know that your mom’s not Mr. Stark’s biggest fan.”

“We do,” Cheri said, quietly. “I guess maybe inviting him to show up to her apartment without letting her know beforehand probably wouldn’t be the best way of getting her to like him more, huh?” _ Even though asking her if he could come went terribly when I wanted him there for Thanksgiving. _

“I’m gonna go ahead and say no, yeah,” Peter replied. He cut up the last few bits of tomato, and brushed the diced pieces into a bowl, before reaching for the head of lettuce. “I mean, you could always ask her, if you really want him there.”

“I won’t bother unless _ you _ want him there,” Cheri said. She held out some of the beef for him to taste. He considered for a moment, and then nodded. 

“It’s good.” She turned back to the stove, turning it off. “I’d love for him to be there,” Peter went on, “but it won’t upset me if he can’t be, especially if your mom would prefer that he wasn’t. We’re going to see him later that day, and we’ll be staying at the Compound afterwards, so it isn’t like I won’t get to see him at all.”

“That’s true,” Cheri admitted. “I just kind of wish we could all be together. Like, our whole family, y’know?” 

Something inside of Peter’s chest glowed. He finished with the lettuce, and turned to face her, leaning back against the counter, smiling. _ “Our _ family?” he clarified, and Cheri glanced over her shoulder at him. 

“Yeah,” she said, clearly confused. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Just… I don’t know. _ Our _ family. Like we’re married or something.”

“Oh.” Cheri blinked a few times, and hastily turned away again. “Is that weird? I’m sorry if I made it weird.”

Peter stepped up behind her, and slid his arms around her waist. “It’s not weird,” he murmured into her ear. “It’s actually kind of nice to think about.”

Cheri leaned back against him, smiling a bit herself, now. “It is, isn’t it?” she asked, softly. They stood in silence for a moment, thoughts of the future drifting through their heads, before Cheri inhaled and focused once more on transferring the drained taco meat from the strainer back into the pan she’d used. “Anyway, I’ll ask her. She’ll probably say no, which… y’know, not great, but it’s okay. For now.”

“For now,” Peter repeated, still holding onto her by the waist. He shuffled around with her as she grabbed for the taco shells they’d made the day before, and had been warming up in the oven. 

“Yeah,” Cheri responded. “I mean, if we want it to be _ our family, _ it makes sense that they can stand one another, right?” 

“To be fair,” Peter said after a moment, watching as she placed meat into the shells, “no one can’t stand anyone, aside from your mom. Mr. Stark doesn’t even remember her.”

“Right,” Cheri said. She hesitated a moment before sighing. “My mother is the problem. Of course. It had to be someone on _ my _side.” Peter chuckled, and she elbowed him, just hard enough to show she meant it. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, stepping back from her. She turned to face him, and handed him the plate she’d placed three tacos on. “I am.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “I know that she’s the issue. She was _ always _ going to be the issue.” She hesitated, and then her eyes widened in worry. “Oh, shit, but what if when Mr. Stark and my mom meet again for the first time, he remembers who she is, and then remembers why she hates him so much, and then he hates _ her _ for something similar?” She turned around again, bracing her hands on the edge of the counter top. “Oh, God, I feel lightheaded,” she said, blinking rapidly. 

“You need to eat,” Peter said, unbothered. She got like this a lot. “Put meat into some shells and have a couple of tacos.” 

“I should put some away for Harry and Ned,” she murmured after a moment, and started to do that instead of prepare her own food. Peter sighed to himself, and continued to create his own tacos. She could be just as bad as him, sometimes. Just as bad as _ Tony, _ even. 

Eventually, however, when the kitchen had been cleaned and leftovers had been put away for their very-adult-and-capable-of-fending-for-themselves roommates, he finally managed to get Cheri to sit down on the couch with two tacos of her own and eat while he explained to her the most recent project that he had been working on. She listened, offering comments, but he knew that she really had no idea what he was talking about, which was fine. Sometimes it was good to just know someone was listening, even if they weren’t comprehending. Or were bored. 

But that was the thing. Cheri _ wasn’t _ bored. He could tell that much, by looking at her. Her eyes never left him throughout the whole explanation, and they were glittering with affection. Even if she didn’t know what he was saying, she knew it was important to him, and so she listened. It was gratifying. He loved her so much. 

After she was done eating, he stood in the kitchen washing dishes, listening as she talked to her mother on the phone. Most of the conversation was in Spanish, so he only caught bits and pieces, including whenever his own name was mentioned. He also knew when the discussion switched to Christmas, because Cheri said _ Navidad. _ He was getting really good at his comprehension. 

He regretted that thought instantly when the calm conversation suddenly became rapid fire, and pretty loud. He quickly finished with the dishes, and hurried into the main room, watching as Cheri stalked angrily in front of the couch, her brow furrowed in frustration. 

_ “Es importante, Máma,” _ she finally said. _ “Sabes que es como un padre para Peter.” _

Yeah, all right, he understood enough to know what she’d just said. He waved his hands, trying to get her attention, but she held up her own in his direction. Peter sighed a little, and lowered his hands again. So much for trying to not be involved. He was still trying to get Isabel to like _ him; _Tony could wait. 

_ “Pero -” _ Cheri cut off, and huffed. _ “Estάs siendo terca.” _ She paused, and then her shoulders fell, her voice lowering a bit. _ “ _ _ ¿Qué pasa si digo que es importante para mí?” _ She listened for a moment, and then her scowl returned. _ “Bueno. Olvide que pregunté. Adiós.” _

She lowered her phone, ending the call, and then sank down onto the couch, head between her hands. Peter carefully walked up behind the couch, and leaned across the back of it, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, resting her head against his arm. “I tried.”

“It’s all right,” Peter responded. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “There’s always next year, right?” 

“Yeah,” Cheri sighed. “Next year.”

_ Next year, hopefully, she won’t have a choice, _ she thought to herself, _ because we’ll be married, maybe, and she’ll at least need to _ tolerate _ Mr. Stark. _

_ Really? Married by next Christmas? _ the same voice that was always so quiet asked. 

_ All right, engaged, then, _ she amended. _ Whatever. The point is, she needs to be getting along with him by then so that Mr. Stark can be around next Christmas because Peter and mine’s relationship will have advanced to the next step. _

“You wanna share whatever you’re thinking about with the rest of the class?” Peter queried. 

“Mm, no,” Cheri replied quietly. “Not relevant.” She turned her head, forcing Peter to lean away a bit. Their eyes met, and she smiled a little. “You know what would be fun?” 

“What?” She raised her eyebrows, and Peter sighed. “You want to make a list of all the things we need to pack in order to be ready for our vacation.”

“Yes!” Cheri said, her smile widening. She leaned forward and kissed him, holding his face in her hands. “God, you know me so well.” 

Peter cracked a smile of his own. “I know, I’m pretty great.” She kissed him again, and then hopped up from the couch. 

“I’ll get a piece of paper and a pen!” she called, hurrying towards their bedroom. 

“Oh, we’re bringing out_ paper,” _ Peter said, hanging over the back of the couch, feeling only the tiniest bit abandoned. “This is a _ big _deal.”

Still, when she returned to the living room and plopped back down on the couch, having written down five things already, he couldn’t help but smile softly, listening as she spoke each item she thought of aloud, before writing it down. There were times in which he realized again and again that he wanted to marry Cheri, someday, and this was one of them. 

“Should we get a travel sized toothpaste, or should we just take the one that’s in the bathroom?” she asked, frowning a little. “It’s almost empty, already, so maybe it would be smarter to just buy a new one for here, and then finish the one we already have while we’re gone.”

“That sounds good to me,” Peter replied. He pulled out his phone, and typed ‘jewelry stores’ into the search bar on the browser he opened. He frowned at the price he saw on the first engagement ring he tapped the picture of, and then looked sideways at her. “Hey, you never wear any green.”

Cheri immediately looked over at him, clearly disturbed by the idea. “Me? In green? Why would I?” 

“Just, I don’t know, as a Christmas color?” he suggested, doing his best to cover up the fact that the question _ had _ been a bit out of nowhere. In his haste to come up with a distracting topic, he’d chosen something ridiculous. “I think you’d look good in green.”

Cheri gazed at him for a moment, before she reached over and patted his thigh. “Thanks, babe,” she said, “but we both know I look smokin’ in red, so I think I’m covered.” She turned back to her list. “I’m going to get you some travel sized bottles of shampoo and body wash, I think. You’ll have some at the Compound, no doubt, but for Abuela’s, you’ll need it.”

“All right,” Peter replied, his eyes back on his phone. It was a bad idea to be looking at rings, especially while he was sitting right next to Cheri on the couch, but he’d only wanted to see. 

He _ was _ seeing, and was learning that he’d most definitely need to go to a store, to look at rings in person. The very last thing he wanted to do was assume that a ring he found on his phone looked good, go to the store to get it, and realize that it was all wrong in person. Cheri deserved the perfect ring. 

Besides, he wouldn’t be putting it to use for another six months or so. _ After graduation, _ he reminded himself, and not for the first time. _ After graduation. _

Cheri continued to talk about the things they needed, and he put his phone away, returning his attention to her. Until then, he figured, he could go on looking for those moments that reminded him of why he wanted to marry her. They always came at the most simplistic times, when she was being herself, but they were his favorite.

He blinked, realizing that he’d been smiling at her like a dumb ass for the past thirty seconds. But, hey, no one was around to tell them to stop being gross. He might as well go all in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love writing domesticity. It's my version of porn, I swear.


	52. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony receives an interesting proposition while at work.

**December 20th, 2023 - Stark Tower - Broadway & W. 58th, St., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 6:43 PM**

“Mr. Stark?” 

Tony glanced up from the work he was doing, frowning a little. His expression relaxed when he spotted one of his PAs standing in the doorway of his office. “Hey,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What’s - what’re you still doing here?” 

“I’m still here because you are, sir,” the PA replied. “I was surprised when you said you were coming in today.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t as though I have plans for the day five days before Christmas,” Tony answered. “But you should go home, take the rest of the holiday season off. I probably won’t be back in to work until after the New Year, anyway.” _Which is a lie, but just because _I'm_ sad doesn't mean I need to drag my employees down with me. _

“Thank you, sir,” the PA said, “but I actually came in here to tell you that you have a visitor.”

“I do?” Tony asked, frowning again. “Who?” 

“We don’t know,” the PA admitted. “That’s why I came in to talk to you about it. She says her name is Isabel Schultz. Security wouldn’t let her up from the lobby unless it was cleared with you.”

Tony had to take a moment before responding. Why was Cheri’s mom there to see _ him? _ That was completely unorthodox, especially considering Cheri and Peter were still in Washington Heights. He doubted Cheri had anything to do with her mother coming to visit him; why stress herself out with something like that when she was on vacation?

“Yeah, uh… go ahead and send her up,” Tony said, standing up from his chair. He lifted his arm, sniffed his sleeve. At least he smelled okay. “Yeah, she’s… she’s cleared.” 

“All right, sir,” the PA said, and he exited the room again, closing the door partially behind him. 

Tony let himself panic for just a moment. Obviously, Isabel had something she wanted to discuss with him. Obviously, it was important, important enough that she’d come to his place of business rather than just try to get in touch with him through one of his public emails. Less obviously, she was there on her own accord, because Tony _ really _doubted Cheri would have convinced her at any point to come see him, considering she was away uptown visiting her grandmother. 

So what _ had _ made up Isabel’s mind to come and see him? 

He supposed he’d be finding out very shortly. 

He double checked that the two chairs in front of his desk were clean, and comfortable, and angled in such a way that a conversation between two people sitting in them would not be awkward. He made sure that he had a water bottle available in the mini fridge beneath his desk, just in case she wanted one, not that he couldn’t ask his PA to get her one if he _ hadn’t _ had one readily available. God, why was he acting like this? It was only Cheri’s mom. 

Right. It was Cheri’s mom. _ Cheri. The girl your Resident Son Figure has chosen as his life partner. Right right right. Cool cool cool. Tight. Tight tight tight tight - _

“Mr. Stark, Ms. Schultz is here,” his PA said, opening the door again, and Tony straightened up at once, tugging on his sleeves. 

“Thanks, send her in.”

The PA stepped out of the way of the door, and after a moment, a woman who looked _ remarkably _ like Cheri took his place. She had her dark curly hair pulled back, was dressed in a maroon pantsuit. It was actually quite nice. There were some wrinkles around her mouth, and on her forehead, most likely due to a combination of stress and age. The thing that startled Tony the most were her eyes, which were light hazel in color, rather than the dark chocolate brown that her daughter’s were. Everything else, however, right down to her height, was a perfect match. 

“Ms. Schultz,” he began, walking forward, hand held out. She shook it after a moment. “It’s… it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“We’ve met,” Isabel replied, taking him in. “Cheri mentioned that you don’t remember.”

“Unfortunately,” Tony agreed. “I’m sorry. College was a bit… well, messy, I guess we can say.” 

“Believe me, I know,” Isabel told him. 

Tony stumbled for a moment, but managed to recover with, “Please, come sit,” he said, moving out of the way and gesturing to the chairs before his desk. “Would you like some water? I could even send Alex downstairs to get you something to eat -”

“I won’t be here long,” Isabel replied, although she did take a seat, in the left armchair, Tony noticed. He wondered briefly if that was because she was left-handed, like Cheri. “I only came here to talk to you about my daughter and your…” She trailed off significantly. 

“Mentee,” Tony jumped in. 

“Yes,” Isabel said, studying him. “I wish to speak to you about their growing relationship, and what that means in terms of you and I… being around one another.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Tony replied. “I was actually going to approach you about this, once the holiday season passed.” 

“I figured it couldn’t wait,” Isabel said. “Several days ago, my daughter called, asking if she could invite you to our family’s Christmas. She implied that you belong there, considering your role in Peter’s life. She also said that it was important to _ her _ for you to be there.” She tilted her head, taking him in through narrow hazel eyes. “I told her that I was not comfortable with that.”

“Which is fair,” Tony said, “considering the Tony Stark you knew in college. But I am… absolutely not that Tony Stark anymore, Ms. Schultz. These last fifteen years or so have really… brought on a change. I am much more trustworthy, I don’t partake in any of the recreational activities that I used to, and I… I believe myself to be a better man. Not a great one, or even a good one, but… better.” 

In truth, he’d been thinking this over a lot, lately, since his lunch with Cheri in which he’d come to the conclusion that Isabel probably did not want to interact with the Tony Stark that had haunted the campus of MIT once upon a time. It was true that he had stopped drinking so much, had stopped doing any type of drug, mostly for the sake of his relationship with Pepper (which no longer existed), but then for the sake of his relationship with Peter. He wanted to be a good role model for the kid, which kept him… straight.

And the whole superhero thing, too. Had to keep up appearances.

But it was mostly for Peter. And now, he supposed, it could be for Peter and Cheri. 

Isabel continued to gaze at him, and he waited, believing that he’d said his piece. He wasn’t sure what else there was for him to show that he had changed, aside from maybe a urine test. 

“What is your relationship like, when it comes to Cheri?” she finally asked, and Tony blinked. He hadn’t really been expecting that question, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by it. 

“She’s… she’s great,” he said. “I enjoyed having her work for me. She’s very smart and organized, which I appreciate. She’s funny, too, shares the same kind of humor as I do. And she’s… she’s good for Peter. I can tell that she loves him a lot, and he loves her, too, which makes me happy, because he deserves to be happy.”

Finally, _ finally, _ Isabel relaxed back in the chair. “You really do care for him,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Tony answered, smiling a little. “He’s… he’s a big part of my life.” He exhaled, and glanced at her. “I don’t know if you think I have any bad intentions towards Cheri, but I can assure you that I don’t. I just want to, y’know, be friends with the girl that my kid’s in love with. I’m pretty sure he wants to marry her someday. I think it makes sense for me to have a good relationship with her.” He paused. “And that extends to you, in turn.” 

Isabel did not speak for several seconds, during which she went back to studying him. Tony waited, again. He wished that he could tell what she was thinking, but she was oddly more guarded than Cheri. He wondered why. 

Finally, she lifted her chin. “They have plans to stay with you at the… Avengers Facility, upstate, until after the New Year,” she said. 

“Yeah, last I heard that was still the plan,” Tony said. “They were going to head over as soon as they were done at your apartment on Christmas.” 

Isabel sighed a little. “I suppose it wouldn’t be terrible, if you were to come to the city and spend some time with all of us that morning,” she said. “I would feel better if Cheri didn’t have to drive her car all the way upstate. It’s old.”

“Yeah, I noticed that the engine’s sounding a little… bad,” Tony agreed, and Isabel nodded. “I… I’d love to come over Christmas morning. If you’re absolutely okay with it.”

“I am,” Isabel said, and she sounded as though she meant it. “My mother might not be, but it is my apartment, not hers.” 

“Your mom doesn’t like me either,” Tony concluded. “That’s all right, we can work on it.” 

Isabel snorted, and Tony once again marveled at the similarities between her and Cheri. “Good luck with that,” she said, dryly. “She’s very stubborn.” She stood, and offered him her hand, which he shook at once, rising as well. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Mr. Stark.”

“Go ahead and call me Tony,” he offered, following her to the office door. “The kids don’t, but we’re both adults, and we might be something like in-laws someday.”

“I have no doubt that we _ will _ be in-laws someday,” Isabel said, and she actually smiled a little. Tony was not surprised to see a dimple appear in her left cheek. “So I’ll call you Tony. As long as you call me Isabel.”

“I can do that,” he said, returning her smile. “Thank you for coming to see me. I feel… ten times better.” 

“Oddly, so do I,” she said. “I will see you Christmas morning, Tony. 10 AM.” 

“Ten. Got it,” he replied. “See you then.”

She nodded to him, and then stepped out of the office. He carefully closed the door behind her, and then let out a relieved breath of air. _ God, _that had been one of the most stressful conversations he’d had recently. He hoped it would get easier with time. 

He considered it for a moment, and then smiled again. He actually felt pretty certain that it would.


	53. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in Brooklyn. Who would've thought it possible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summary's a joke. 'Cause Peter's from Queens? 
> 
> Also, I know "Into The Spider-Verse" confirmed Jewish Spider-Man, and I love that, but in an interview, my boy Tom Holland said he didn't know about his own Spider-Man, and that's who I'm writing, so.

**December 25th, 2023 - 225 Schermerhorn St., Brooklyn, New York, NY, USA - 9:45 AM**

Her phone read 9:45, and Cheri was nervous. 

She had no reason to be. They weren’t meant to be at the Compound until much later that afternoon, and she knew that part of her fear had to do with the fact that her car almost hadn’t started the day before, when she’d driven herself, Peter, and Abuela to her mother’s apartment from Washington Heights. Thanks to Peter’s genius engineer-brain, they’d made it safely to Brooklyn, but she had no idea how long his quick-fix would last. 

So, yeah, she was nervous for at least partly a good reason. So she didn’t have to feel that bad. 

She checked her phone again. 9:46. _ Jesus, _ did time _ always _ move that slow? They hadn’t even had breakfast yet! 

Next to her on the couch, Peter and Abuela were having a very serious discussion on the merits of Santa Claus being a symbol of Christmas, especially for children. 

“You really don’t think it’s a little strange that a big ol’ guy with a white beard sneaks into people’s houses and leaves presents, and that the idea of that isn’t, like, horrifying to everyone?” Peter asked. 

Abuela shook her head. “It’s good to let children believe in things,” she said. 

“But isn’t it establishing a sort of dishonesty between parent and child almost immediately?” Peter sighed. “I mean, I don’t remember when I stopped believing in Santa, but I’m sure I wasn’t very happy to find out that he wasn’t real.”

May exhaled a breath from the other side of Abuela. All four of them were in Cheri’s mother’s living room. “You were seven,” she said. “Your uncle Ben, for whatever reason, thought for sure that you would sleep through the night, and didn’t think he needed to dress up. You walked in while he was setting up the telescope you’d asked for.”

Peter blinked. “Oh, yeah!” he said, remembering. “Man, I was really upset.”

“You didn’t speak to either of us for three days,” May agreed, crossing her legs and leaning back against the couch cushions. “I still blame Ben for that.”

“Well, yeah,” Peter said. “It was his fault.”

Abuela chuckled. “You may have a point,” she said to Peter. “When a child learns that Santa isn’t real, they do feel lied to, but they get over it. The idea is supposed to inspire a belief in magic.” 

“But when they find out the idea was a lie, they stop believing in that magic,” Peter insisted. He leaned around her, and spoke to Cheri. “If we ever have kids, we’re not telling them about Santa. I refuse to lie to them.”

Cheri pretended that she’d been listening the whole time, rather than worrying about whether or not they’d get to the Compound in time for dinner. She was actually only worrying about whether or not her car would get them to the Compound at all. Of course that was it. 

“I don’t - maybe Santa isn’t the one to leave the presents behind,” she said, “but it’s fair to say that his spirit of generosity inspires parents to give their kids gifts.”

Abuela looked at Peter, haughty. “There you are,” she said, gesturing to Cheri. “Compromise.”

“But Santa _ still isn’t real,” _Peter said, refusing to give in. 

“There was a St. Nicholas who inspired the idea of Santa,” Isabel said from the kitchen, where she was still in the middle of cooking french toast and eggs. “But if you talk about him, that’ll be bringing religion into it.”

“Right,” Peter said. “Which, y’know, important, but not so much for kids. And maybe not for us.” He looked at Cheri again. “No Santa.”

She relented, looking at her phone. 9:50. “Fine,” she said. “We won’t lie to our children about a jolly fat man bringing them gifts out of the kindness of his heart.”

Peter finally seemed to notice how on edge she was, because he frowned. “What are you worrying about?” he asked her. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet, and if we leave here around noon, we’ll be at the Compound by two.” 

“I’m not… I’m just worried about my car, that’s all,” Cheri mumbled, pushing her phone into her pocket. “I don’t want it to break down on the edge of the road, and make us late.” 

There was a knock on the door of the apartment, then, and Cheri looked in that direction, frowning a little. She glanced at Abuela. “Who else did we invite?” she asked. “Is it Uncle David, because I really wish you would’ve warned me if it was. He always messes up my hair, like I’m some kid on his Little League team.” 

“It isn’t Uncle David,” Isabel said, walking away from the stove and to the front door, which she pulled open. “I was worried you were going to be late,” she said to the person on the other side.

“I’m never late,” a familiar voice replied. Cheri looked over at Peter in surprise, and saw that the emotion was reflected on her boyfriend’s face. “That’s a promise.”

“I bet,” Isabel said, flatly. “Let me take your coat.”

“Thanks, it’s pretty chilly outside. This is a nice place.”

“I do my best,” Isabel said. “Everyone else is in the living room. Do you want some coffee?”

“Mm, yes please, with a little bit of _ leche.” _ Tony rounded the corner, and smiled at everyone in the living room. “Merry Christmas!” 

“Mr. Stark, what’re you doing here?” Cheri asked, standing up. Peter did the same, blinking. 

“I was invited,” Tony responded, walking further into the room. “May, good to see you.”

“You too, Tony,” May said, smiling. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Mr. Stark,” Abuela said, studying him with just barely disguised mistrust.

“You must be Mrs. Schultz.” Tony dipped his head. “The head of the family.”

“That’s exactly right,” Abuela replied after a moment. “I’m glad we understand one another.”

Tony straightened up, and turned to Peter. “What, are you too much of a man to give me a hug?” he queried. “It’s Christmas!” 

Peter finally let out a noise that sounded like a laugh. Cheri gaped as he walked around the coffee table and gave Tony a hug. “I’m just surprised to see you,” he explained, pulling back. “When did -?”

“I visited Tony at work, and offered him an invitation to join us,” Isabel explained, entering the room. She held a coffee mug in her hand, which she passed to Tony. 

“Thank you, madame,” Tony said, and he took a drink. After swallowing, he nodded. “Delicious.” 

Isabel looked at Cheri, who was still struggling to comprehend what was happening. “I thought about the conversation we had on the phone,” her mother said. She was speaking a little more softly, now. “You said that it was important for him to be here, and after considering it, I knew you were right.” She looked around at everyone in the room. “We’re all family, here. Cheri and Peter being together has made sure of that. It makes sense that we all be together on holidays.” 

Cheri’s shoulders fell, and she offered her mother a small smile, which Isabel returned, before she cleared her throat. “I need to finish breakfast,” she said. “After we eat, we’ll open presents.” 

“Sounds good,” Tony said, grinning. He looked at Cheri and Peter. “I love giving presents, it’s my favorite part of Christmas.”

“Surprising,” Abuela murmured, and Cheri looked at her, frowning, but Isabel spoke up first. 

“Be nice, Máma_ ,” _ she said. “Tony’s a guest, and we’ll be something like in-laws, someday. He’s going to be your son-in-law.”

“That’s fun to think about!” Tony gave Abuela a cheerful smile that she did not return. 

“No one said anything about anyone becoming in-laws,” Peter said, looking just the tiniest bit nervous. 

“Please, Peter, if I didn’t think you were going to marry my daughter, I wouldn’t waste any of my time on you,” Isabel said, finally leaving the room and returning to the kitchen. Cheri pressed her hand to her eyes, but she was smiling. This was going exactly as she’d wanted it to. It was awesome. 

They all ate breakfast around the small breakfast nook table. May and Tony knew one another very well, so the conversation between the two of them was easy. Cheri was pleased to see that conversation between her mother and Tony seemed easy as well, but she supposed that made sense, considering they were both very smart, had gone to the same college. The wit shared between the two of them should have been overwhelming, but it wasn’t. In fact, Cheri kind of enjoyed listening to it. 

That probably had to do mostly with the fact that she was happy they were getting along at all, however. 

The only problem she had, she realized, was that Peter _ also _ shared their wit, which sort of left her out. Not that she minded. Their intellectual banter wasn’t something she was interested in being part of, and while they were doing that, she could talk to May about simpler things. She liked Peter’s aunt a lot; she was a little dreamy, which was reflected in Peter, sometimes. Cheri enjoyed identifying new things about May that she could then conclude that Peter had inherited in the process of being raised by her. 

Abuela, meanwhile, ate her breakfast without sharing in the conversation. Cheri noticed that Tony tried to interact with her, more than once, but each time, Abuela’s response was cool and measured, and short enough to show that she did not want to continue speaking with him. _ That _ made Cheri sad, but she didn’t think Tony was discouraged whatsoever, which she was thankful for. At least he wasn’t offended or anything. Isabel must have warned him that Abuela would act this way. 

After breakfast, they all returned to the living room to exchange gifts. May was very grateful for the warm, fuzzy blanket that Cheri and Peter had picked out for her, as well as the necklace that Peter had found on his own. She gave him a kiss on the forehead, which Peter did not brush away. Cheri imagined he'd never been the type of kid to do that, he was too sweet. 

They had gotten Isabel a new tea kettle, since she’d mentioned to Cheri that hers was no longer whistling. Peter had done some extra work on it, and installed a temperature gauge, so that she would know how hot her water was, even if the pot did not whistle. Isabel accepted it with a smile, marveling over the pale blue color of it, which matched the decor of the apartment. That had been Cheri’s doing. 

For Abuela, they’d had a hard time coming up with a gift. The old woman had told Cheri that she didn’t want anything, nor did she expect the two of them to get her anything. In the end, Cheri had suggested a photo album, which Peter agreed to. A long night had been spent putting it together for Abuela, filling it with pictures from both of their childhoods. Cheri still wondered if maybe it was a present they should have saved for a time in which they were absolutely positive that they were together for the long haul, but… maybe this meant that they were. After opening her presents, Abuela retired for the guest room, stating that she could use a nap after the excitement of the morning. 

Thankfully, Cheri and Peter had their present for Tony in the trunk of her car, which she sent Peter down to get while there was a lull in present opening. She admired the vinyl labeled ‘Cheri Songs’ her mother had gotten for her, smiling a little to herself. After a moment, Tony sank down on the couch beside her, sighing outwards. 

Cheri looked over at him, her smile growing. “Hi,” she said, setting the record into its sleeve and safely off to the side.

“Hey,” he replied. 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, so am I,” he agreed. “It’s actually going to work out. Your mom asked if I could drive the two of you to the Compound, since your car’s kind of taking a dump.” Cheri laughed, and he grinned. “Am I going to like the present you guys got me?” 

“I don’t know,” Cheri said with a shrug. “I hope so. Peter put a lot of thought into it.” She paused, and then said, “Before we decided to get you something completely different.”

“Haha,” Tony said, dryly, and she smiled again, looking towards the Christmas tree, feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

“Someone’s gonna be real happy this Christmas,” Peter said, walking back into the living room, carrying the bag that held Tony’s gift. He sat down next to them both on the couch, handing the present to his mentor. “There’s a brand new car downstairs, with a big bow on the top of it.”

“Dang it, Pete,” Tony said, and Peter jumped, startled. 

“What?” 

“I thought you heard my telepathic message!” Tony exclaimed. When Peter merely blinked at him, he sighed. “It was supposed to be a surprise until we walked downstairs and saw it together. I was gonna be like, “Wow, look at that!” and one of you was going to say, “Wonder who that’s for?” and I would say, “You guys!” and give you the friggin’ key.” 

“Wait, _ what?” _Cheri asked after a moment of silence. 

“I got you a new car,” Tony sighed, gazing upwards despondently. “Peter ruined the fun, though.”

“You got us a _ car?” _ Cheri demanded, jumping up and hurrying to the window, which showed out onto the street below. Parked in front of the apartment building was a newer model of her current Honda. It was a dark, midnight blue, and there was in fact a giant bow on the top of it. She spun around, facing Tony again. “Why did you get us a _ car?” _

“Because your car is dying,” Tony said. “You need a new one, so there it is.” Cheri stammered for a response, and he shook his head. “Don’t argue, tell me to take it back, or pretend that you don’t need it. A car is the only thing that keeps you guys coming to the Compound, and I’d like it to stay that way.” He paused. “I guess I should apologize, actually, since I drove it here from the dealership this morning.” He looked over at Isabel, who’d been watching this interaction with an amused smile. “That’s why I was a little later than I thought I’d be. Picking it up took forever.”

“I can’t believe you bought us a _ car,” _ Cheri said. 

“I can,” Peter sighed, walking over to look out the window as well, “and I want to say that we can’t accept it, but really, we kind of need the car.” He looked at Cheri. “You know we do.”

“Yeah, but it - I - what the _ hell.” _

“Cheryl, language,” her mother said amicably, taking a sip from her coffee mug and looking at May. “I mentioned that the gift receipt is with the sweater, right?”

“Yes,” May said, reaching for the box that Isabel had given her. “I’m sure it’ll fit fine, though. You know my sizes.”

Cheri gaped around the room. “Are we just done talking about the car?” she asked, feeling like she was in the Twilight Zone, but, like, a good one. 

“I mean, you guys can go downstairs and check it out if you want,” Tony said, leaning up a bit and tugging the key out of his pocket. He tossed it across the room in Cheri’s direction, but Peter, obviously knowing she wouldn't catch quickly fired a web and caught it for her, pulling it to his hand instead. “Hey, good catch, kid!” 

“Thanks,” Peter said, and he gestured to the bag on Tony’s lap. “You going to open that? It’s not as cool as a new car, but -”

“I’m sure it’s better than a new car,” Tony interrupted, tugging the tissue paper out of it. He reached into the bag, and pulled out the gift inside. Wrapped in more tissue paper was a framed photograph of the three of them, taken at Peter’s graduation. Peter was the only one who’d known the picture was being taken: as such, he was smiling at the camera, while Tony was looking at him, beaming, and Cheri was making a face, no doubt due to some comment that Tony had made the moment before the image was captured. 

Tony smiled down at the picture, and then he glanced up, looking first at Peter, and then at Cheri. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “This is definitely going on my desk.” 

“Not as good as a new car, though,” Cheri said. 

“It is ten million times better than a new car,” Tony replied. “I didn’t even know this picture existed.”

“Yeah, May took it,” Peter explained. “She sent it to me afterwards.”

Tony looked at May. “Thank God you know my good side,” he said, and she laughed. 

“After eight years, I’d feel bad if I didn’t,” she said. 

Peter looked over at Cheri, whose shoulders fell when she saw the look on his face. “You want to go see the car,” she said. 

“Very much so, yes,” Peter responded, bouncing a little on his toes. “Can we, can we, please?” 

Cheri conceded after a moment, and they all followed Peter down to the street. Cheri watched, more than a little amused, as he poked his head into the car, and then into the engine. It was a new mechanical thing for him to learn about; no wonder he was so excited. 

May lightly nudged her arm with her elbow. “Does he know that he won’t be allowed to drive it?” she asked, and Cheri smiled. 

“We’ll discuss it, since it’s apparently a joint present.” She looked briefly at Tony. “But I think we all know who it really belongs to.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s yours,” Tony responded, snorting. “I’ve been in the car with Peter driving. Not a fan.” He lifted his shoulders. “You’d think with his spider stuff he’d be a bit better at it.”

“It’s probably too much,” Isabel suggested. “You sort of become hyper-aware while driving, I’ve noticed. With his senses already amplified the way they are, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he overcompensates behind the wheel.”

“I can hear you guys trash talking me, but I am too excited to care!” Peter called, peeking over the hood. 

“It’s a scientific discussion,” Isabel responded. 

“That is oddly reminiscent of trash talk,” Tony added. 

May and Cheri exchanged a glance. Cheri was glad that she wasn’t alone with the three of them. 

When Peter’s fascination with the car was satiated a bit, they returned upstairs to the apartment. Abuela had returned from her nap, looking better rested than she had. She’d made herself some tea, and she greeted Peter by calling him _ mijo, _ so Cheri knew that she was feeling better, too. 

In fact, when the time came for Cheri, Peter, and Tony to head out, so that they would make it to the Compound before dinner, Abuela even let Tony shake her hand. 

“If you’re going to become a frequent presence,” she said, “I may as well get used to it, and even learn to tolerate you.”

Tony smiled, gripped her hand gently. “That’s all I can ask for,” he said. 

Cheri hugged May, and her grandmother, who held her tightly. _ “Feliz Navidad, _ Yaya,” she said, pulling back with a smile. _ “Gracias.” _

“No, _ mija, _ thank _ you,” _ Abuela said in response. “The photo album is perfect.” 

Cheri moved on to her mother, hugging her around the waist. Isabel somehow managed to rest her chin on the top of her head, despite being only an inch taller than her. _ “Feliz Navidad,” _she said, stroking her daughter’s hair for a moment. 

“Thank you for inviting Mr. Stark,” Cheri murmured. 

“Thank you for asking me to be reasonable,” Isabel replied. “I know now, plain as day, that he belonged here, just as much as any of the rest of us. I saw today just how much he cares for Peter, and by extension cares for you.” She pulled back, and placed a kiss on Cheri’s forehead. “He’s welcome at all family gatherings, because you’re right: he _ is _ family.”

Cheri smiled at her mother, and hugged her for a moment longer, before she stepped away. “All right, boys,” she said, snatching the keys from Peter’s hand as she walked past him towards the front door. “Let’s head out.”

_ “Hasta luego, todas!” _ Peter said, following her out the door. Tony smiled at the three women in the apartment before doing the same, closing the door behind him. They made their way down to the street, and Cheri studied the car for a moment as Peter placed the last of the presents into the trunk. Tony joined her on the sidewalk. 

“It’s not too much, is it?” he asked, and Cheri let out a breath. 

“Yes,” she said. She looked up at him, smiling. “But that’s okay.” She leaned into him for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I think I should be thanking you,” Tony replied, and he gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “This is one of the best Christmases I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to get used to it,” Cheri said, “because you’ll be around for a lot more.” 

“Hey!” Peter called, and they both turned towards him. He gestured. “Are we going or not?” 

“Why’re you complaining?” Cheri asked, walking around the back of the car to get to the driver’s side. “You’re the only one who doesn’t get cold.”

“He’s probably hungry again,” Tony suggested, pulling open the back door and sliding into the seat. He settled down square in the middle, sighing outwards. “Man, I love a good new car smell.”

Peter sank into the passenger’s seat, smiling a little to himself as Cheri started the car to get the heater going. She grinned as the engine rumbled, glad that there were no clanks or clatters coming with it. She looked over at Peter. “Good?” she queried, and he nodded. “All right.” She adjusted the rear view mirror, meeting Tony’s eyes briefly. He winked at her, and she nodded back, before buckling her seat belt, and resting her hands on the wheel.

“Upstate, here we come,” she said, and put the car in gear.


	54. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A holiday might not be the best time to share some life-changing news, but it has to be said eventually.

**December 31st, 2023 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 10:32 PM**

“Don’t we love it, when we all get together?” Tony asked, spreading out his arms as he took in the scene before him. Cheri and Peter lounged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, cups of hot chocolate cradled in their hands. Nat and Bruce sat together on one of the couches in this particular living area. Bruce looked a little uncomfortable, and Nat seemed to be doing her best to soothe him by holding his hand in hers. Behind Tony, he could hear Steve moving around in the kitchen, while Bucky and Sam argued about something.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, smiling at him. “Thanks for agreeing to let us stay until after New Year’s. It’s nice to be away from the apartment.” 

“Of course,” Tony replied. “Sad that Ned couldn’t come and stay.”

“Yeah, he was upset about it, too,” Cheri told him. “But, hey, you gotta do what your mom wants, I guess, even as an adult. And besides, his mom invited Harry to join them, which… you wouldn’t have done.”

“Right,” Tony said with a nod, not feeling guilty about that last bit at all. He looked at Bruce and Nat. “You two good?”

“We actually need to talk to you, Tone,” Bruce said, speaking quietly as he glanced at the younger couple. 

Peter and Cheri immediately took that as their cue to leave the room, and they did so, hand in hand. Tony thought his teeth would fall out, just watching them go, the two of them were so sweet. Cheri even went as far as to lean her head against Peter’s arm. 

Once they were out of earshot, Tony moved closer to the couch that Nat and Bruce sat on, settling down on the coffee table across from them. “All right,” he said, folding his hands together and placing them between his knees, looking at the two of them. “What’s going on? I get the feeling that it has nothing to do with the happy new year.”

Bruce glanced at Nat, his brow furrowed, and Natasha exhaled a breath, nodding to him before she looked at Tony. “We’ve been discussing it,” she began, “and Bruce and I think that we should start looking for a place to live. Our _ own _ place.”

Tony blinked. He leaned forward a bit more, and then leaned back again, glancing up at the ceiling. “Sorry,” he said after a moment. “Run that by me again.”

“We want to move out of the Compound,” Natasha responded. Her tone was level, and Tony thought it was smart of Bruce to have passed the torch of saying it out loud to her; she wouldn’t let emotions or anything like that get in the way. 

Tony unfolded his hands, placed them on either side of his legs, gripping the edge of the coffee table. He stared at the rug on the floor. The pattern made him dizzy. Or perhaps that was the feeling of betrayal, it was very unclear. 

“Okay,” he said, slowly. He did not look up at the two of them again. “You… I get it. You’re married, now, and you want a place of your own. That makes sense.” He inhaled. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t _ hurt, _ obviously, but -”

“Tony, the last thing we want to do is hurt you,” Bruce said. “Or anyone else who’s still here. And it’s a great place to meet up, have… y’know, parties and stuff like this one, but it isn’t… it just doesn’t work as a living place for the two of us. We want a space where we can, y’know, fit together, without having to worry about anyone else.” 

Tony put up his hands. He still wouldn’t look either of them in the eye, although he was struggling to figure out if that was by personal choice, or simply because he could not. “Like I said, I get it,” he told them. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“Explain what?” Steve had entered the room, wiping his hands off on a dish towel. Tony waved his own at Natasha and Bruce, standing up from the coffee table. 

“They’re moving out.”

“You are?” Steve asked, sounding pleased. “Congratulations! I’d wondered if that was something the two of you would think about doing, eventually.”

“What, so you _ knew _ about this?” Tony demanded of him. Natasha immediately stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Stark -”

Tony shrugged her off, staring at Steve. “Well?”

Steve looked concerned. Tony wanted to punch him. “I don’t - Tony, I didn’t _ know _anything. I just thought -”

“You knew that it was a possibility,” Tony interrupted. “You knew that, that, that things would get completely screwy, that everyone would just decide that they can, I don’t know, move on, like nothing even fucking happened! Well, thanks for the head’s up, everybody! Really appreciate it!” 

Without waiting for anyone to say anything, Tony stalked out of the room. He wanted to knock the Christmas tree over on his way, but thought better of it, and left it alone. 

Once he was gone, Bruce let out a breath, and said, quietly, “I knew he’d react like that.”

Natasha shook her head, turning to him. “We had to tell him some time,” she said. 

“I know,” Bruce replied, “but…” He trailed off, obviously not having a way to finish. There _ was _no ‘but’. Tony’s response to the idea would have been the same, no matter when or how they’d told him. 

He stood up. “I guess I should go talk to him,” he said, and started to head the way Tony had gone. Steve moved in front of him before he could get far, however. 

“No, let me,” he said, looking between Bruce and Nat. “I think it’ll be easier for me to.”

Bruce nodded after a moment, and bowed his head. Natasha moved closer to him, brushing her hand against his, and they watched Steve leave the room after Tony, tossing the dish towel he’d held onto the coffee table as he went. 

“Maybe it isn’t a good idea,” Bruce murmured after a moment of silence passed between the two of them. 

“No,” Natasha said at once. “It’s a good idea, for me and you, and for everyone else. We can’t depend on this place anymore, Bruce. The Avengers are more or less over; we shouldn’t all be living in the same spot.” She glanced at the hallway Tony had gone down. “If Tony can’t move on alone, maybe us doing it for him is the next best thing.”

Bruce wished he could agree with her sentiment, but after having witnessed Tony’s reaction, he didn't know if he could. Hopefully, Steve would be able to get somewhere with him, although Bruce sincerely doubted it. Tony had never been Steve’s biggest fan. 

Steve found Tony sitting against a wall outside of one of the labs, his head hanging between his hands. He cleared his throat, to announce his presence, and when Tony didn’t look up, carefully sat down next to him, making sure to leave a bit of space. 

For a moment, the two sat in silence, Steve waiting for Tony to say something, which eventually, he did, just as Steve had thought he would: “I didn’t need you to come check on me like I’m some teenage girl crying at her own birthday party.”

Steve smiled a little, making sure not to look at Tony as he did so. “I know,” he said. 

More silence. Steve had plenty of things to say, but he thought it best if Tony led the way to the conversation himself; he’d be more willing to continue it, that way. If nothing else, Steve knew the way Tony operated from years of working with him, whatever oddly misshapen friendship they might have had or have aside. 

“Everyone’s willing to move on,” Tony finally murmured, and Steve glanced at him. “I just - I know that we all _ can, _ now that everything’s been fixed, and has stayed good for a while, but I just… I keep expecting something worse to happen.”

“Why?” Steve asked him, and Tony shook his head. 

“Pessimism’s a bitch, I guess.”

Steve smiled again, and waited for Tony to say more. 

“I think I just…” Tony trailed off, scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Fuck, why am I telling _ you _ this?” 

“Because I had to move on harder than anyone else you’ve ever known,” Steve replied after a moment, and Tony glanced at him. Steve lifted his shoulders. “You wake up in the 21st century after being in the ‘40’s, and you have to let certain things go, realize that you have to move on like the rest of the world, or get lost and eaten up by it all.” He met Tony’s gaze. “So, yeah. I get it.” 

Tony gazed at him for a moment longer, before looking away again. “I guess I feel like, as long as _ everything _ stays exactly how it is, nothing can happen,” he said. “Like, as long as we all keep going the way we have been, it’ll stay like this, and we’ll all be okay. If Bruce and Nat move out of the Compound, that’s changing something, and I don’t… I don’t _ want _ anything to change, because then _ anything _ can change.” He looked at Steve again. “Does that make any sense?” 

“More sense than you probably think it does,” Steve replied. He leaned his head back against the wall, looking up. “But, maybe if something does change, you’ll see that nothing bad happened because of that, and you’ll be okay if more things change.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, because _ that _ will happen.” He shook his head. “Have you met me, Cap?”

“I have,” Steve said with a smile. “I know that you’re stubborn as hell, hate when things don’t go your way, but I also know that you want what’s best for the people you care about.” He turned his head so that he could see Tony. “And what’s best for Nat and Bruce is to move out of the Compound, get a home of their own. And I think they’d really appreciate it if you could support them as they work on doing that.”

Tony sat silently for another moment, obviously thinking it over. Steve waited for him to reach whatever conclusions he wanted to. 

Eventually, Tony let out a breath. “Did they have to tell me on New Year's Eve of all days?” he asked, and Steve smiled again, standing up. He held his hand down to Tony, who took it, and allowed Steve to help him to his feet. 

“Tony,” Steve began, as he started to walk away down the hall ahead of him. Tony paused, looked back. “You know that you can talk to me whenever you need to.” 

Tony glanced down at the ground, and, after a second, gave a barely perceptible nod of his head. Steve watched him turn and keep walking down the hall, hands in his pockets. Steve let his shoulders relax, and he let out a breath. He’d need to keep an eye on Tony, he decided. He couldn’t understand how he hadn’t recognized how much Tony still hurt before now. 

He may not have been his team leader anymore, but he most definitely was still his friend. Friends helped friends however they could, and Steve could definitely help Tony with this. The science stuff, not so much, but the idea of moving on was something he felt pretty well versed in.


	55. New Year's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new year, but everything's pretty much the same.

**January 1st, 2024 - New Avengers Compound - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 1:23 AM**

Cheri laughed, slapping her hand down on the mattress and sending the playing cards flying. “War!” 

“That is _ not _ the game we’re playing!” Peter exclaimed, but he was grinning, too. He quickly collected the cards, including the ones she still held in her other hand, and shuffled them together.

“Hey, that was a winning hand!” Cheri said, but she didn’t try to fight him for them. She glanced at her phone, and blinked in surprise at the time it showed. She then stretched her arms up over her head with a yawn. “It’s late.”

“Yeah?” Peter looked at his watch. “Oh, yeah, it is.” He studied the deck of cards he held in his hand, before setting them down on the bedside table. He turned to face her again. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“Mm, yeah, if I’m remembering last year correctly, Mr. Stark woke everyone up at, like, nine in the morning,” Cheri said, scooting up to head of the bed. She collapsed onto the pillows, hugging one, eyes closed. “He better not do that again.”

“Or what?” Peter queried, amused. 

“I’ll beat him up,” Cheri mumbled sleepily. 

Peter chuckled, and laid down beside her, on his back. He studied the ceiling for a moment, thinking over the last two weeks. Their trip to Washington Heights had been fun; as both Cheri and Abuela had predicted, the residents of the block that Cheri had spent some of her childhood on seemed more accepting of him, this time, when he made it a point to show that he wanted to learn about and participate in their culture. They were happy to show him, to introduce him to everything that was important to them, and to Cheri. 

Christmas Eve at May’s was good. Harry had been a fun addition to that gathering; they’d spent the evening playing UNO with May, betting peanuts and M&Ms. May had given Peter his present then, and he’d smiled when he’d opened the framed picture of him and his uncle, that last Christmas. 

“This is the last picture, isn’t it?” he’d asked her, and she’d nodded, smiling a little. 

“I thought you’d like to have it,” she’d explained, and he’d hugged her, murmuring that he appreciated it and her so much. 

Then Christmas morning, at Isabel’s apartment, with the unexpected but awesome surprise of Tony being there. Both Peter and Cheri agreed that it had gone better than they’d expected a first gathering with them all to go. Adding Tony hadn’t changed the dynamic that had been created at Thanksgiving; in fact, he’d added something that Peter silently thought had been missing. More parties like that one were expected in the future, and Peter was excited to see if they went just as well. 

And finally, the Compound, where they still were several days later, with plans to leave in the next week or so. Peter enjoyed being at the Compound, but there was something different about being there, now, knowing that there didn’t need to be a divide between Tony and the Compound, and the rest of the world. The two halves of his life could be woven together, the way that he’d wanted them to be for years. It was awesome. 

His smile grew, and he turned his head to look at Cheri. He’d heard her breathing deepen, knew that she’d fallen asleep, and so he didn’t say anything. Instead, he merely gazed at her for a moment. She looked better rested, and he knew it was a reflection of the vacation that they’d partaken in over the last two weeks. He was feeling it himself. Her eyelashes were dark against her light brown skin, and her eyes were already moving beneath her lids as she dreamed. He hoped that it was of something good. 

“Could you turn off the lights, FRIDAY?” he asked, quietly. In response the light from the bedside table lamp turned out. “Thanks.” 

He rolled onto his side, facing Cheri, and closed his eyes, sighing outwards. Sleep. He appreciated when it was a luxury he could afford. 

**10:23 AM**

Peter blinked his eyes open, and then exhaled, sinking deeper into the pillow beneath his head. He heard a soft laugh, and hummed questioningly. 

“Nothing,” Cheri replied. He felt the bed shift behind him, and then felt her arm wrap around his waist, forehead pressed to the base of his neck. “Did you know… that you snore?” 

“Hrmf.” 

She laughed again, hugging him a bit tighter. “Are you awake, Queens?” she prompted, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “‘Cause I was thinking of heading over to the gym to get a workout in, before taking a shower.” 

Peter shifted, and Cheri leaned up, resting her chin on his shoulder. “What do you think?” she queried. 

“Could we skip the workout part?” he returned after a moment, and she smiled. 

“You can,” she said, and then she sat up fully, tugging her hair back over her shoulders and tying it up. “I need to do something, though, work off this holiday weight.” 

Peter snorted, rolling over so that he was facing her direction. “Whatever you want,” he said, “but I think you look perfect always.” Cheri glanced down at him, and he added, “But I do want you to feel good about yourself, too, on your own terms.”

“There it is, that’s the feminism I’m here for,” she said, smiling, and then she leaned down and kissed him, lightly, so that morning breath wouldn’t get involved. “Maybe I’ll see you down there?” 

“Or maybe I’ll just meet you in the shower,” he answered, picturing it already. 

“That works for me too,” Cheri said, and then she slipped off the bed and ducked into the bathroom. Peter rolled back over, and snuggled into the pillow again. _ Just for a bit longer, _ he told himself, before drifting off. 

**11:09 AM**

He woke again later to the sound of the shower in the bathroom turning on. He sat up, slightly alarmed, and then remembered where he was. He relaxed again, and huffed, checking his watch for the time. When he saw that it was already eleven, he groaned a little, and flopped back down on the pillow, before slipping sideways out of the bed and dragging himself into the bathroom. 

Cheri looked over her shoulder from where she was tugging her workout clothing off, and smiled. “Morning,” she greeted. 

Peter grunted in response, stepping away from the toilet and to the sink instead, reaching for his toothbrush. In the mirror, he watched Cheri step into the spray of the shower. She exhaled appreciatively, and tapped the panel built into the wall a couple of times. In response, the bathroom filled with classical music. 

“Name the composer!” she called, and Peter spat his toothpaste into the sink, considering. 

“Bach?” he guessed. 

“Hey, that’s right!” Cheri said, sounding more amazed than anything. “Good job.” 

“I’m not completely helpless,” he responded, stripping off the basketball shorts he’d slept in, and joining her in the shower. 

“Sometimes I wonder,” Cheri responded, grinning at him. Peter snorted, and stuck his head directly beneath the water. It _ did _ feel fantastic. He could only imagine how it felt to Cheri after her workout. Face still turned up into the stream, he held out his hand. After a moment, a bottle was placed into it, and he dumped some shampoo into his other hand, before reaching up and rubbing it into his hair. 

They showered together in a comfortable silence, aside from Cheri’s humming along to the classical music. It was cello heavy, Peter noticed. He wondered why she was in a classical mood, rather than something different. Maybe she’d been listening to rap while she was working out, and had decided on classical as a cool-down genre. She did that a lot. 

Rather than turn on the other shower head, they simply took turns beneath the one that Cheri had already started, both as a way to conserve water, and because the shower was big enough to allow for that sort of thing. Peter had to be careful not to look too much at Cheri, less he come up with a different way to waste water. 

Thankfully, she stepped out of the shower before he could. She shook out her hair, grabbing for a towel and wrapping it around herself. She looked back at Peter, and tilted her head in the direction of the bedroom, before she exited the bathroom, the music moving with her. Peter lingered under the shower for maybe three minutes more before shutting the water off and going after her.

She was already getting dressed, he was a little disappointed to see, and she turned around to face him after tugging on an oversize hoodie she’d most definitely stolen from him. 

“I’m surprised no one’s come in here to bother us,” she commented. 

As Peter expected, almost as soon as she spoke, there was a knock on the closed door of the suite. He rolled his eyes and walked towards the closest, ducking into it to put clothes on. Cheri smiled and headed for the door. She pulled it open.

“Hey, you _ are _ awake!” Tony said, walking into the room without waiting for her invitation. 

“Sure, come on in,” Cheri said with a roll of her eyes, sliding the door closed again. She turned to face him. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing,” Tony replied, spreading his hands. “Why would anything be up? Gravity exists.”

Cheri sighed. “Mr. Stark, I noticed the way you were acting last night,” she said. “So did Peter. What did Doc and Nat talk to you about?” 

“Again, nothing,” Tony said, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. Cheri waited, arms crossed, and after a moment, during which Peter reentered the main room, dressed, Tony’s shoulders fell. “They want to move out of the Compound.”

“Oh, really?” Peter asked, happily. “That’s awesome.” 

_ “Is it?” _Tony demanded, head lifting, and Peter actually took a step backwards, his smile fading. 

“All right, anger, that’s… unexpected,” he said, carefully, looking sideways at Cheri, who, oddly, did not seem surprised by Tony’s intense reaction. Peter made a face at her, and then turned back to his mentor. “What’s… what’s going on?” 

Tony continued to glare for a moment, before his expression softened, and he turned his eyes downwards. “I don’t know,” he said, quietly, and then he shook his head. “No, that’s bullshit, I know exactly what’s going on, and it’s that I don’t want Nat and Bruce to move out, but I also know that it’s what’s best for them, and I’m very conflicted.”

Cheri and Peter exchanged another glance. That was a little bit easier to get a handle on. Peter let out a sigh, and said, “Well… that’s understandable.” 

“You think so, huh?” Tony asked, glumly. “Great.”

Cheri, very patiently, moved forward and rested her hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I think I get it,” she said, and Tony glanced up at her. She nodded. “You don’t want anything to change.”

“Yep.”

“But you know that a change for Nat and Doc is probably a good idea.”

“Mhm.”

“But you also think that if they move out, anyone can.”

“Well, not so much that, but… sort of,” Tony admitted. There was a moment of silence, and then he huffed, standing and shrugging off Cheri’s hand. “I don’t know why I’m still complaining about this. Steve already talked me down last night. I just… I’m still trying to come to terms with it, I guess.”

Peter looked again at Cheri, hoping she had something else to say. After a moment, she smiled a little. “You know what’ll make you feel better?” she queried, and Tony looked over at her, clearly despondent. 

“What?” 

“Some breakfast. Or I guess brunch, now, probably,” she told him. “Anything you want, as long as we have the right ingredients.”

Peter looked carefully at Tony, and was relieved to see that he’d perked up a little. “Sympathy food?” he asked, hopefully, and Cheri nodded. 

“Sympathy food.”

“Can we… make… cinnamon rolls?” 

Cheri pursed her lips. “I was hoping you’d ask for something a little bit healthier,” she said slowly, “but… since you’re sad, we can do cinnamon rolls.”

“I’ll take a jog,” Tony promised, straightening up. “Seriously, it has been ages since I had an ooey gooey, and I will do anything you ask me to in order to get one. Or three.” 

“All right, as long as you promise,” Cheri said, and he nodded. “Good.” 

Tony made it a point to jog out of the room, and Cheri shook her head in amusement before looking at Peter. 

“What’re you going to tell him if we don’t have what we need?” he asked. 

“I’ll send you to get some,” Cheri answered. She walked over to him, and placed her hand on his chest. After studying him for a moment, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “What’re we going to do later?” she asked, settling back down to her normal height. 

“I can think of a few things,” Peter replied, grinning, and she snorted, reaching up and slapping him lightly on the back of the head. 

“We already talked about how that’s not happening while we’re here,” she reminded him. 

“What? I was thinking we could walk around the grounds or something,” Peter said, offering her a look of confusion that he was definitely faking. “Why do your thoughts immediately go to sex?” 

“Shut up,” Cheri said, rolling her eyes, and then she walked away from him, out of the suite. Peter smiled to himself, and went after her. Cinnamon rolls sounded pretty good to him, too. 

**12:03 PM**

“You suck at this,” Cheri said, plainly, and Tony snorted. 

“Excuse me for not being a baker,” he retorted, spreading even more flour over the surface of the counter. “It’s not my fault it’s sticky.” 

“They’re cinnamon buns; aren’t they supposed to be sticky?” Peter asked from the other side of the island, perched on a bar stool. Tony gestured to him, but Cheri ignored this, dumping even more flour on the counter. 

“It is your fault that it’s sticking to the counter, though,” she said, and she nudged Tony out of the way with her hip. “Get out of the kitchen.”

“What? But this was _ my _ idea!” Tony exclaimed. “And it’s _ my _ kitchen!” 

“You’re making _ your _ kitchen a lot messier than it needs to be,” Cheri said. “Out, unless you want to be the one to clean it all up later on.”

Tony muttered something, but did not argue with her any further, because he really didn’t want to have to clean. He shuffled out of the kitchen, into the nearby living room, listening as Peter said something that made Cheri laugh derisively. He sank down on a couch with a sigh, and gazed listlessly at the blank wall that was usually used for TV/movie viewing. 

“Well, isn’t this a depressing New Year’s sight.” 

Tony straightened up, and turned his head. Stephen Strange tilted his own, smiling a little. He spread his hands, indicating the empty room, the unlit Christmas tree. “Where’s the joy?” he asked, amused. 

“It died at midnight,” Tony answered, standing. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing,” Strange said with a shrug of his shoulders. He was dressed in civilian clothes, Tony noticed, a nice pair of slacks and a button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He leaned up on his toes for a moment, glancing around. “I’ve never been around the Compound as a whole. It seems nice.”

“Only the best,” Tony responded, walking around the couch. “Uh… did you come to talk more about energy spikes? I figured that when you didn’t come around again, in November -”

“Right, there hasn’t been any other developments,” Strange said. “I… I meant to keep you updated, but there wasn’t really anything to update you on.”

“That’s fair,” Tony admitted. He slid his hands into the pockets of his own slacks. “Did you - I mean…” He trailed off, and then smiled a little to himself. He met Strange’s eyes. “Is _ this _ a personal visit, then?” 

He was gratified to see a light blush form on Strange’s neck. “Not exactly,” he said. “Wong insisted I get out of the Sanctorum for the holidays; I managed to stay around until this morning, when he physically kicked me out of the building and told me to find a party or something.” He rolled his eyes. “As though he believes I still retain any form of a social life.”

“Well, a social life is something I am… quite adept at handling,” Tony commented. “If you’d like some help from a professional.”

Strange snorted. “As though I’d ever sink to that level,” he said. “No, I figured I’d come here, where there’s a semblance of companionship that I can pretend to share in.” He indicated the Christmas tree again. “I can see that I’ve missed out.”

Tony looked the tree over. “Well, to be fair, the tree isn’t lit because it’s daylight outside,” he said after a moment. “But, if it would make things more realistic for you…” He tapped his watch a few times, and the lights on the tree came to life. He turned back to Strange, gesturing. “There.”

“Yes, that helps quite a bit, thank you,” Strange said. He looked around for a moment, and Tony finally managed to take the hint. 

“Would you like a tour, Dr. Strange?” he queried. 

Strange smiled again. “Yes, I would,” he said. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, if there’s one thing I love to do, it’s show off my excellent design tastes,” Tony replied, grinning back, and he waved his hand. “This is the second floor living room. There’s another up on the third floor. The fourth is dedicated to other things, and my own private suite and office. We’ll save that for last, since its the best. This way is the kitchen.”

He walked down the short hall and into the other room, where Cheri and Peter still were. Peter was idly rolling a ball of dough between his hands, but he looked up as both Tony and Stephen entered the kitchen. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Dr. Strange!” he said, and Cheri looked up as well from where she was mixing icing. “It’s - wow. It’s good to see you.”

“Hello again, Mr. Parker,” Stephen replied. “Ms. Schultz.”

“Dr. Strange,” Cheri said, blinking. She glanced at Tony, who had once again placed his hands in his pockets. He raised his shoulders, but there was a small smile on his face, so she imagined that he wasn’t _ unhappy _ with Stephen’s presence at the Compound. As such, she nodded towards the oven. “We’re baking some cinnamon rolls for later on. You’ll stay to have one, right?” 

Stephen looked over at Tony, who tilted his head. After a second, Stephen turned back to Cheri. “I think I could stay for one, sure,” he said. 

“Good,” she responded, and turned her attention back to the icing. 

“Pete, why don’t you come with us?” Tony suggested. “I’m giving Stephen a tour.”

Peter’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay, sure,” he said, walking around the island to join them. As they walked out of the kitchen again, he shot a glance at Cheri, mouthing _ Stephen? _

Cheri could only raise her shoulders in response. 

“Peter’s suite is on this floor,” Tony was saying when Peter caught up to the two older men, down the hall from the elevator. “When she’s here, Wanda Maximoff’s is down here, too, but it’s been empty for awhile, now.” 

“Does it get lonely, a place this big with only a few residents?” Stephen asked as they paused outside Peter’s suite. 

“Mm, no,” Tony responded. “We always manage to get under one another’s feet, anyway.” He slid open the door, and gestured inside. “Each suite has a bedroom, and an en suite. Pete’s is a little messy, since he’s been here for a couple of weeks.”

“Just like my apartment,” Peter said helpfully. “Feels a little more like someone lives there with more mess. Usually, everything’s so clean.” 

“We have bots for the dusting and stuff,” Tony explained to Stephen, who nodded, stepping away from the door again. Tony slid it closed once more. “The elevator’s down this way. The first floor is the main level, and then the labs are on the sub-levels, which you probably noticed the last time you were here.”

“Yes,” Stephen agreed. “I saw that they were pretty outfitted.”

“Well, we do have three scientists who spend quite a lot of time here,” Tony said. “We’re always busy down there. Peter’s got his own, I’ve got my own, and Bruce has his. More often than not, all three of us are in one of them, working together. There’s also a woodworking shop down there.” 

“What about your medical bay?” Stephen asked as they stopped in front of the elevator. “You have one, I’m sure.”

“We do,” Tony said. “It’s up on fourth.” The elevator doors slid open, and all three of them stepped in. Tony gestured to the buttons. “Pick a floor, any floor.”

Stephen smiled a little as he tapped the fourth floor button, and the doors slid closed again. “I didn’t expect a steel elevator,” he said, and Tony lifted an eyebrow. Strange shrugged. “I figured it would be covered in mirrors, so that you can look at yourself.”

Peter glanced at Tony, and was surprised to see his mentor smirking. “I saved the mirrors for my own suite,” he said. “I get more use out of them there.” He shrugged. “My suite is the best room in the place, I think. I have a custom made mattress that’s red and gold.”

“That does not surprise me,” Stephen said with a roll of his eyes. “Is it also stuffed with money?”

“Diamonds, actually,” Tony said. “I take baths in money, Scrooge McDuck style.”

Peter looked back and forth between the two men as they shared this exchange, his eyebrows raised. The last time he’d seen Tony and Strange together in the same place, they hadn’t really been the best of friends. They’d _ tolerated _ one another’s presence, for the sake of kicking bad guy ass, but beyond that, Peter had assumed that their egos were too big to let them be in the same room, and definitely not allow them to get along. Which, oddly, seemed to be what they were doing. 

And then the question of what Strange was even doing at the Compound had yet to be clarified, for him. It was New Year’s Day. Didn’t Strange have some type of… magic ceremony or something? To celebrate the new year? 

They reached the fourth floor, and Tony led the way to the medical bay, having assumed that was what Stephen wanted to see. He showed off the three separate rooms that were secluded away from the medical equipment they had, for the sake of patients, explaining that they’d used the x-ray machine they had at the Compound to take care of one of Peter’s friends, when his leg had been broken. 

“We haven’t had much use for them, other than that,” he said. “Aside from when I came back from space and should have definitely been dead but wasn’t.” He shrugged. “Still, they’re good to have, although I don’t know how much use we’ll get out of them once Bruce leaves.”

“Doctor Banner is leaving the Compound?” Stephen asked, turning away from a heart monitor to look at him, an eyebrow raised. 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, he and Natasha have decided they want to get their own place, to… grow.” He shook his head. “I get it, but at the same time, I wish they wouldn't."

Stephen’s expression shifted, slightly, and he looked at Peter. After a moment, Peter lifted his chin in confirmation of the question that Strange was silently asking him. For whatever reason, he felt as though Stephen’s concern was genuine, when it came to his mentor, and Peter thought that maybe Strange could help, somehow. 

“Anyway,” Tony said, snapping out of the reverie he’d fallen into. “Let’s visit the best area of the Compound.”

“Yes,” Stephen said, following him out of the medical bay. “I’d like to know what a mattress filled with diamonds feels like.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder at him, grinning cheekily. “There are more fun ways to find out,” he said. 

Peter’s eyes went wide, and he almost stumbled, but caught himself before he could. What the _ fuck? _ Had Tony just _ flirted _ with Dr. Strange? The Master of the Mystic Arts that Peter was almost sure he’d _ hated _ until maybe ten minutes ago? The _ fuck? _

“I’m sure there are,” Stephen replied, and Peter_ did _ trip, now, because that answer had _ not _ been sarcastic in the slightest. 

_ What the - _

“Pete, you keeping up?” Tony called back to him, and Peter realized that they’d kept going, neither having noticed his stumble. 

“Y-yeah, just… fixing my sock,” Peter responded, and he picked up his pace to catch up with them. He’d need to examine whatever the hell had just happened further, but maybe after observing the two of them for a bit longer, and after collecting more data. And then, maybe, after talking to Cheri about it. 

**1:24 PM**

“You are the lamest cinnamon roll aficionado I think I’ve ever met.”

“What, because I don’t want to slather the thing in icing?” 

“It’s the best part!”

“It covers the taste of the cinnamon which, if I’m not mistaken, is the most _important_ part.”

“The lamest.”

“Perhaps I simply don’t want to suffer from diabetes when I’m your age.” 

_ “My _ age? Excuse me, sir, but we are _ definitely _ not that far apart. Look at these gray streaks.”

“These have absolutely nothing to do with my age. Besides, they complete the look.”

“The look of what? Disheveled old man? The bathrobe you're usually wearing helps add to that, definitely.”

“It is not a _ bathrobe.” _

Peter watched Tony and Stephen suspiciously from the hall connecting the living room to the kitchen. They’d been sitting in there on a couch for almost a half-hour, now, just talking back and forth, neither one willing to let the other have the last word. Oddly, though, that didn’t seem to stem from their large personalities. It seemed to be almost a _ game _ to them. 

Peter was definitely thinking too hard about it. 

He cursed, when something hit him on the back of the head, and turned to see that Cheri had thrown a hazelnut at him, from the kitchen. 

“Stop it,” she hissed. 

“I just want to know what’s up,” Peter replied, casting one last glance into the living room, before he turned and walked back to the kitchen. He sank down on a bar stool at the island, sighing. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other before, so I want to know what changed.”

“It could be partially because Dr. Strange helped save your life,” Cheri said, cracking another nut in the mouth of the nutcracker she had on the counter top. 

Peter frowned, and looked at her. “What?” he asked, confused. 

She sighed outwards. “When you went missing, after Osborn took your suit,” she said, “Mr. Stark asked Dr. Strange to help find you. We probably wouldn’t have been able to, if it hadn’t been for him. After we got you back to the… Sanctum Sanctorum, I guess, he set you up with an IV, and made sure that there was no immediate damage to your system.” She glanced up at him, placing a nut in her mouth. “He helped us. I’m sure Mr. Stark can’t hate him after that.”

“Okay, but this - Cher, I think they’re _ flirting.” _

Her expression did not shift. “And?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Who cares if they are?” she asked. “They’re both good looking guys, smart, and definitely clever enough to keep one another entertained.” 

Peter blinked at her. “Okay,” he said, slowly, “but… I thought Mr. Stark was straight.”

Cheri’s eyes widened, a little. “Oh,” she said, softly. “Oh, I… right.” She glanced down at the bowl of uncracked nuts. “Uh… I don’t know, Queens. I probably shouldn’t be the one you have this conversation with.”

“But you _ know _ something,” Peter said quickly. “What?”

“I’m not - it’s not my place,” Cheri said, shaking her head. She moved the bowl off to the side. “It’s Mr. Stark’s business, not mine.”

“But -”

“Pete, please,” she said, looking up at him. “You know exactly why I can’t be the one to talk to you about this. It’s unfair, and a betrayal of trust.” 

He stared at her for a moment longer, before he sighed, and sat back. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I should talk to him about it.”

Cheri still looked hesitant. “I don’t know, Peter,” she said, and he looked at her again, surprised by the use of his full name. She lifted her shoulders. “Maybe there’s a reason he hasn’t told you, and you shouldn’t… shouldn’t try to pressure him for that sort of information.”

“But he told you?” 

Cheri sighed. “Indirectly,” she admitted, and then she shook her head again. “I’m not going to say anymore about it. It’s unfair.”

Peter knew that she was right, and so he did not continue to ask questions. Still, when he heard Tony laughing from the living room, he had to wonder why his mentor had never mentioned… 

Well. Maybe he had some idea on that. But… it was Tony. It was _ himself. _ Didn’t they… didn’t Tony trust him enough with something like this? Did he think Peter would judge him, or something? That was the last thing Peter would ever do. 

He exhaled a breath. He supposed that it wouldn’t necessarily be bad of him to bring it up to talk about, considering the day Tony seemed to be having with Strange around. That was a completely different conversation Peter intended on having with him, as soon as the bigger discussion was out of the way. But… yeah. They definitely needed to talk, he thought, because he was almost positive that this was actually the best time Tony was having since… well. Christmas had been good, but had Tony been like _ this? _ Peter didn’t think so. 

And that was alarming, but also something worth investigating further, because he wanted Tony to be able to be like this. All the time. He deserved nothing less. And he really didn’t think he had been, since… before the Bad Stuff. The snap and the time travel, and the whole erasing of his daughter and his relationship with Pepper from the timeline of reality. 

So. Yeah. Peter would support it, duh, but only when things had been cleared up. Because right now, he was real fucking confused, and Peter hated being confused. 

Strange left just after Cheri and Natasha started to cook dinner for everybody, and Peter decided to wait until after they ate before trying to talk to Tony. His mentor seemed to be holding onto whatever state of emotional high he’d found himself in with the doctor’s visit, which Peter was glad to see. Maybe he should wait to talk about such a serious thing until the following day. 

He caught Cheri in between her kitchen tasks to ask that very question, and his girlfriend sighed a little. “Do what you think’s best, Pete,” she said. “You know him better than I do.”

“Apparently not,” Peter mumbled to himself as he watched her return to the kitchen, a dish towel hanging over her shoulder. 

In the end, he did decide to wait, because Tony was in a super good mood, and Peter didn’t want to risk ruining that, especially after what had happened the night before, with Bruce and Nat announcing they were planning to move out, and everything. 

It wasn’t like the conversation couldn’t wait, after all. Apparently, it could have waited forever, as far as Tony was concerned, considering the topic hadn’t come up a single time in the years they’d known one another. 

_ No, Peter, stop, that’s a bad way to think. Maybe he just never thought it was a big deal. Or maybe he thought that you knew. It isn’t as though Mr. Stark’s a celibate, he probably assumed you knew he’d experimented or whatever, if nothing else. _

_ Still. It would have been nice to hear it from him. Maybe I could’ve pointed Ned in his direction, when he’d needed help dealing with something similar. _

It just… it would have been nice to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter knows there's something strange going on...  
...  
I'll go home.


	56. Real Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not, like, in a slang-way. Honest to goodness talk.

**January 2nd, 2024 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 11:31 AM**

Peter exhaled a breath, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet as he studied the door of Tony’s office, down the hall from his suite on the fourth floor. He could do this, it was just Tony, and it wasn’t like he was bringing it up out of the blue, either. 

He nodded to himself, and reached out to knock. 

The door opened before he could, and Tony took a step back in surprise. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, and then frowned, clearly seeing something on Peter’s face. “Why do you look like you’re about to puke?” He reached out, placed his hand on the back of Peter’s forehead. “What am I doing, you don’t get fevers. Or get sick.” He withdrew his hand again, and placed it on Peter’s shoulder, ushering him into the office. He closed the door, and sat Peter down in a chair in front of his desk. “You okay? What’s going on?” 

Peter stared at him. He _ did _ feel sick, he realized, and knew that it had to be out of fear. This had to be a bad idea, it wasn’t fair of him to start this conversation. If Tony wanted him to know, he’d tell him, he didn’t have a right to ask. 

“Peter, speak,” Tony said, settling down in the other chair. “You’re freaking me out.”

Peter inhaled, shakily, closing his eyes. “Y-you know that you can tell me anything, right?” he managed, softly. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, carefully. “What’s this in reference to?” 

Peter licked his lips, and glanced at him. “Dr. Strange,” he said. “What’s… what’s happening between the two of you?” 

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “I mean, nothing. Yet,” he said, adding on the amendment with a small smile. After a second, it disappeared, and he looked at Peter again, pale. “Oh.” 

“No, Mr. Stark, that’s not - no,” Peter said, quickly, his stomach lurching. “Jeez, were you not part of the same D&D campaign that I was? I have absolutely zero problem with it. I just… I just wanted to know why you never told me.”

Some of Tony’s color returned, and he exhaled a slow breath. “Oh,” he said again. “I… I just assumed you knew, pal.”

“How could I have known?” Peter asked. “You - I mean, you were with Miss Potts, and then… you were just _ sad, _but you never…” He trailed off, and gave Tony a helpless look. “I didn’t want to be a dick, and like, force you into this conversation if you didn’t want to have it, but I saw you with Dr. Strange yesterday, and… Mr. Stark, that was the most… I don’t know. You were, like, you, again, and I could tell that you weren’t faking it.”

“I wasn’t faking it at Christmas,” Tony said after a moment of silence. 

“You were, a little,” Peter said. “I know what faking it looks like, and you’ve _ been _ faking it, since… the Bad Stuff.”

Tony exhaled a breath. “Can’t get anything past you,” he said, and he sounded a little sad. Peter tilted his head. 

“What’s… I mean. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want, but I wanted you to know that you _ can, _ and I’d… I mean. I’d _ like _ to know, since it seems like whatever this thing is with Dr. Strange might… might be working out for you. I want that, want you to be the way you were yesterday all the time. And you haven’t been for a really long time.”

Tony’s shoulders fell as he gazed at Peter for a moment, taking in the kid’s sincere expression. Finally, he shook his head a little. “I’m… I’m pretty sure that… my thing isn’t necessarily traditional,” he said. “Uh… once upon a time, I’d screw anything that walked on two legs and preferably was blonde. But after a while, I kind of realized that it… it had nothing to do with their gender, or their looks. When the… the _ feelings _ hit, it’s because of who the person is, what they mean to me.”

“Okay,” Peter said, nodding. He could understand that. “Yeah, Ned told me about that. It’s called being pansexual, when it’s completely about the person, and nothing else.” He hesitated, and the decided not to tell Tony that it was what Harry classified himself as. That probably wouldn’t go over very well.

“Right,” Tony said, thankfully not noticing that Peter had almost said something more. “Uhm. My first indication was my best friend, who’s… not my best friend, anymore.” 

Peter blinked a few times. “That… oh.” Tony nodded. “Uhm… sucks?”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, it did, until I realized that _ he _ sucks,” he replied. “So, I loved him, first. I probably could’ve fallen in love with Rhodey, but he wouldn’t let me, which in hindsight I appreciate very much. And then there was Pepper, and after Pepper, I thought there wouldn’t need to be anyone else because of the… the Bad Stuff.”

He paused, and Peter waited. “But it… I do like Stephen. It’s weird, because I was sure I hated him, but after the Bad Stuff, and when he so willingly helped Cheri and I find you… and there’s been a couple of other times, too, where it’s just… I don’t know, Pete. I like him. He’s smart, can hold a good conversation, which cannot be said for the majority of the population. And he’s pretty fucking hot, like, his facial hair game is pretty onpar with mine.” 

Peter smiled, and Tony mirrored it, before shrugging his shoulders, and leaning back in the chair he sat in. “And I don’t think he minds my company, either, which is a bonus. So… I don’t know. It could turn into something, or maybe it’ll just be a friendship, which is fine, too. I could stand to talk to people outside the Compound who have nothing to do with work.” 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed with a nod. “And it - I wasn’t kidding, about all that stuff. You were better, with him around. I guess it kind of surprised me, more than anything,” he said. “But I - it makes sense. You appreciate Dr. Strange as a person.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do,” Tony said. 

“That’s good, then,” Peter said. He let himself relax back in his own chair, exhaling. “Good. I - thank you for being willing to talk about this. I was really confused, yesterday, but now I’m not, anymore.” He paused, glanced at Tony. “But I - what makes you think I knew?” 

Tony shrugged. “Well, there was my willingness to play a gay character in the campaign. And I figured you saw that video of me that went viral online.”

Peter immediately perked up. “What video?” he asked, eyes wide. 

Tony grinned, and gestured with his head, before reaching out and flipping around the holographic screen of his computer, so that it was facing the two of them. He typed in a few things, and then selected the first video that appeared after he made the search. 

[ It was an extremely short clip. ](https://purgatoryandme.tumblr.com/post/172882720253/reporter-in-the-marvel-unviverse-anthony-stark) Tony was seated in the passenger seat of a car, no doubt driven by Happy. The car was slowly driving past a church that had a large crowd of people outside of it. All of them carried signs degrading homosexuality. In the video, Tony held a megaphone, and he leaned out the window of the car, and shouted, “I love sucking dick!” through it, several times, as the car drove past the church. 

Peter cupped his hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles as Tony replayed the video, a proud smile on his face. “SHIELD was _ not _ happy about this video,” he said. “Neither was S.I. Said it was bad for our image.” He shook his head. “They got over it, though. This was definitely not the worst thing for our image that I ever pulled. It actually helped us later on, when being gay stopped being so stigmatized, and started to be celebrated instead.” He played the video a final time, causing Peter to burst into laughter all over again. 

“Yeah, they tried to sue the _ pants _ off of me.” Tony snorted. “Idiots. I wore a rainbow suit to the trial, and blew glitter in all their faces.” 

“I can’t believe I never saw that video,” Peter said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe _ Ned _ never saw that video.” 

“It was a pretty big deal,” Tony agreed, “but it was back when you were a little kid, so I guess it’s not that big of a surprise you never saw it.” He closed the window and turned the screen back around again. He then looked at Peter. “So we’re good.”

“We were always good, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I just… I just wanted to clarify, that’s all.” He tilted his head, grinning. “So… are you gonna, like, date Dr. Strange, now?” 

“I dunno, do you think I should?” Tony queried, smiling back. 

“Yeah! Oh, but don’t ask him to dinner or anything, because that’s lame.” Peter thought about it, and snapped his fingers. “You should take him bowling.”

“Bowling?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that would be super fun for you guys. Unless you’re worried about showing off your competitive side, or you think that the fact that you’re _both_ competitive might make it ugly.” He paused, and then shook his head. “No, it’d make it more fun. Bowling, definitely.”

“You sound pretty sure about it,” Tony commented.

“It’s because I am,” Peter said with a shrug. “All of mine and Cheri’s best dates are ones I come up with.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, of course you feel that way!”

“What? It’s the truth! You can ask Cheri; she’ll tell you the same thing,” Peter informed him. “She knows that coming up with dates isn’t her forte.” He grinned. “Ah, I made a joke. Forte, like the music thing.”

“I’ve taught you well,” Tony said, and he reached out to tousle Peter’s hair. “You’re a dork.”

“Yep, and proud of it, too,” Peter replied. He stood up. “I told Cheri I’d actually get some time in at the gym today, so I better go do that. She’ll be waiting.”

“All right, but if you end up… canoodling, just make sure you clean up after yourselves,” Tony told him. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter said, horrified. 

Tony lifted his shoulders. “Listen, the last time someone used the boxing ring, it was _ not _ to box.”

“Gross. Gross, gross, gross, I _ don’t _ want to be thinking about that!” Peter exclaimed, waving his hands, and he hurried from the room. Tony grinned to himself, leaning back in his chair. Sometimes a little white lie was necessary to avoid a bigger mess later on, he figured. 

**12:45 PM**

Peter hefted the four hundred pound dumbell he’d been using back into its slats, and then collapsed dramatically onto the bench. Cheri snorted from nearby. 

“Please, like _ that _ was hard for you,” she said, walking over and peering down at him. 

“It’s been a couple of weeks,” Peter retorted. “I’m getting back into it.” He sat up, rotating his shoulders. “Thing’s heavy.”

“No, I believe that,” Cheri said, “but it really shouldn’t be too heavy for you.” She walked away again, and Peter watched her step up onto an elliptical. 

“I guess it wasn’t,” he admitted with a sigh. He scooted off of the bench, and walked over to her, watching for a moment. “Working out’s never really been a thing that you did,” he commented. 

“Well,” Cheri began, “what’s the use of my training if I don’t have the physical ability to do any of it?” 

Peter frowned a little, eyeing the sweat beads on her forehead. “What makes you think you’ll _ need _ to use your training?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared, right? Especially considering the people in my life, and their daily activities.”

Peter supposed he could agree with her there, but maybe they’d need to come back to this conversation later on.

“Besides,” she continued, “there’s a gym on the Compound. We might as well use it.”

All right, _ that _ was an even fairer point. Peter consented to it with a nod. 

“You’re right.”

Cheri glanced at him, slowing her pace a little. “Did you talk to Mr. Stark?” she asked. 

“Yeah, we… it’s okay, now,” he said with a nod. “He assumed that I knew, already, and I guess maybe on a subconscious level I _ did? _ I just never… I don’t know. The only relationship I ever saw him in was with a woman, and it was a pretty serious one, so.”

Cheri lifted an eyebrow. “He was in a serious relationship, at one point?” she asked. 

Peter hesitated a moment. _ Uh-oh. _ “Well… kind of,” he said, and then he shook his head. “Things kind of got shifted around, after the whole half-the-population-disappearing thing, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

“Hm.” Cheri turned away again. “Sucks.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, quietly. The guilt he still felt whenever he thought about it, despite the fact that Tony had told him _ not _ to feel that way, was immeasurable. 

Now, though, with this new thing that seemed to be starting with Dr. Strange… maybe Peter would be able to look at Tony and not feel as guilty. Hopefully, it all worked out. Peter didn’t think he’d be able to stand it, if it didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the folks who contributed to the idea of Tony fuckin' wrecking homophobic pieces of shit by shouting that he loves sucking dick and wearing a rainbow suit to a court hearing.


	57. Five Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri finds out.

**January 3rd, 2024 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 4:21 PM**

“Pete?” 

Peter glanced up from his laptop and looked at Cheri. She was not looking at him, but he could see the expression on her face, and knew that this conversation was not going to be an easy one. 

He sighed a little. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asked her, and then he closed his laptop and set it down on the coffee table, turning to face her. “What’s up?” 

She continued to stare into the middle distance for a second, and he thought that she might be taking a minute to formulate whatever it was she wanted to say. Since the day before, after they'd talked in the gym, she'd been acting similarly. He could only assume this had to do with what he'd mentioned before, about Tony and his relationship with Pepper that Cheri hadn't known about because, technically, it had never happened. 

Peter didn't think he was prepared to talk to her about it further. 

Finally, Cheri glanced at him. “You - we’ve talked about what happened to the two of us, during the… whatever the hell it was,” she said. 

“The alien invasion,” Peter clarified. _ I knew it. _ “I just refer to it as the Bad Stuff, whenever I talk about it.” He nodded. “Yeah, we’ve discussed what happened. I disappeared, you didn’t, your mom didn’t, May didn’t… I figured we’d covered it, since I came back.” 

Cheri nodded. “Yeah, we covered _ us,” _ she said, “but… what about Mr. Stark?” 

“He was still here,” Peter said, carefully. “Why?” 

“Just - you mentioned yesterday that he was in a long term relationship before the Bad Stuff, and then after it was over, he wasn’t, anymore.” She turned to face him fully. “Shit like that doesn’t just happen, Pete.”

Peter sighed again. “I don’t think I should talk about this with you,” he admitted, quietly. “Just like you didn’t want to talk about his sexuality with me. It’s… it’s personal, for him, so maybe you should ask _ him _ about it.” 

“Pete.” He turned his gaze upwards so that he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. “Peter, what happened?”

He inhaled a little. “How much time passed, between people disappearing and then coming back?” he whispered after a moment. 

“About a month,” Cheri replied, slowly. 

Peter closed his eyes. “It wasn’t always only a month,” he admitted. “Before the Avengers went back in time to fix everything… five years had passed.” 

Cheri did not speak after that, and he chanced opening his eyes again, to glance at her. She was back to staring into the middle distance. Peter hesitated before reaching over, and slipping his hand into hers. “But that doesn’t matter, since they fixed it,” he said. 

“It matters,” she said, slowly. “Five _ years? _Why the hell did they wait so long?” 

Peter lowered his gaze. “Cher -”

“My _ abuelo _ disappeared,” she said, and he looked up again, blinking. She was frowning, now. “He was gone for a month. Abuela was a wreck. He died six months after that.” She turned her head, so that she was watching him. “You’re telling me that, _ originally, _ he was gone for _ five years?” _

“Cheri, it doesn’t matter,” Peter said. “No one remembers those five years, except for the Avengers that were involved in fixing it. They did, and everyone came back after a month in the new timeline they created.” 

“But they waited _ five years,” _ she said, harshly. _ “Why?” _

Peter shook his head. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “It was personal. They all had to sacrifice things in order to make it work at all.”

“Personal,” Cheri scoffed, a little bitterly. Knowing what he did, Peter had to turn away. 

“Cheri, if you’d just… talk to Mr. Stark, he could explain _ his _ reasoning for waiting so long, and I think you’d understand -”

“What are we talking about?” Peter glanced towards the archway of the second floor living room, and saw that Tony had walked in, at one point, and was now frowning at them both. “Sounds pretty heated,” he said, crossing his arms. 

Peter glanced over at Cheri, but she said nothing, instead gazed at Tony with a stony expression. “It’s nothing,” he said after a moment, looking back at his mentor. 

Tony did not look convinced, but to his credit, he did not press the issue. Instead, he said, “Well, I’m starving. Do you guys want to go get something to eat?”

“Uh… yeah, that’s a good idea,” Peter said, thinking that maybe they could talk about this together, over dinner, in a public space, so that Cheri wouldn’t feel compelled to strangle either of them. “You should probably get changed, though,” he went on, indicating Tony’s grease-stained shirt. 

Tony looked down at himself. “Ah, right,” he said, and he looked up, smiling. “I’ll be ready in, like, fifteen minutes, and we’ll go. Decide what you guys want.” He turned and walked from the room again. Peter looked over at Cheri, ready to tell her his idea. 

She was already up, however, and walking after Tony. Peter cursed a little under his breath, and started to stand to go after her, to intercept her before she could reach him, but decided it was pointless. If anything, he’d be nearby, just in case it was necessary for him to intervene. 

He sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. 

Cheri followed Tony to the elevator, calling, “Mr. Stark,” before he could push the button. He glanced back at her, frowning a little, and turned towards the elevator again. 

“Change your minds already?” he asked, pressing the button with his thumb. “I know I smell a little, but I can rapid shower.”

Cheri stopped next to him. “What happened in those five years?” she asked. 

Tony blinked at the elevator door. Why was it that when he suddenly needed it to arrive immediately, it seemed to like to take its sweet time? He exhaled, slowly.

“How do you know about that?” 

“Don’t,” Cheri said, quietly. “I just want to know why it took so long for you guys to do something to fix the thing that had ruined everybody’s lives.”

Tony had to take a moment. “Are we really going to do this right now?” he asked. “I told Peter fifteen minutes.”

“We can walk and talk,” Cheri said. 

“Not about this.”

The elevator arrived, at last, but neither of them entered it. Tony’s eyes had finally met Cheri’s, against his will, and he saw the barely restrained anger blazing there. He frowned. “Why are you so upset about it?” he finally asked as the elevator door closed again. “I - you can’t even remember those five years.”

“That doesn’t take away the fact that they existed, at some point, in whatever timeline, and that people suffered, had to deal with their losses, for _ five years, _” she said harshly. 

Tony stared at her. “There’s more to it than that,” he finally said. “What makes it personal, Peanuts?” 

Cheri continued to glare at him, her fists clenched at her sides. Tony waited, doing his best to remain impassive. He was tempted to match her anger with his own, retort with his own story of loss, of the reason it had taken him so long to want to fix things, but he didn’t. That would get him nowhere with Cheri, he knew, even though he could tell that she _ wanted _ him to get angry. It was a thing that Tony shared with her. 

Finally, though, she turned away, sniffling. A tear raced down her cheek, and she furiously wiped it away. “My _ abuelo _ disappeared, during the Bad Stuff,” she said through clenched teeth. 

Tony’s shoulders fell. “There it is,” he murmured. 

Cheri squeezed her eyes shut. “We only lost him for a little while,” she continued, “but he died six months later. And sometimes, I wonder what we might have missed out on, with him, when he was gone during that little period of time.” Her eyes opened again, and turned, blazing once again, back to Tony. “So to think that there was a timeline in which he was gone for _ five years… _ it pisses me off, because where were the world’s defenders _ then?” _

“Dealing with their own losses,” Tony snapped, giving in. “Fuck, Cheri, it isn’t like _ we _ didn’t lose anyone! Everyone was _ devastated. _ I was _ trapped in space, _ after losing one of the only people I loved, right in front of me! So excuse the hell out of me if I didn’t immediately want to go after the guy who fucking did that, who beat the _ shit _out of us.”

Cheri gazed at him, seething. Tony stared back, waiting for her to say something else. 

“I just don’t understand why you waited _ five years,” _ she finally muttered. 

“How about because my fianceè was pregnant?” Tony exclaimed. Cheri’s eyes immediately went wide, and she took a step backwards. “Yeah. We had a daughter, a daughter that I wanted to raise, because I did not want to be the same kind of dad that my old man was, the one who left his kid behind in order to take care of his own needs first.”

“I - I didn’t know,” Cheri said, her voice lowered. The anger had gone out of her; now, she was subdued. “Peter said that… that you all sacrificed things, in order to fix it, but I didn’t - I _ never _ would have guessed -”

“Well.” Tony threw up his hands, and reached for the button on the elevator again. “Never mind about dinner,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood, anymore.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m _ so _ sorry,” Cheri tried, but he’d already stepped through the doors, which had slid open immediately. She stared at them for a minute, after they had closed, and then her shoulders fell, tears springing to her eyes once again. “Why did I _ do _ that?” 

Hands rested on her shoulders, and she leaned back into Peter, shaking. “I didn’t - I didn’t know, Pete, I - fuck, I shouldn’t have attacked him like that,” she stammered. “Why did I - I mean… _ shit.” _

“It’s my fault,” Peter murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “I should’ve guessed you’d react like that.”

“No, that was completely on me,” Cheri sighed. “I have to go talk to him.”

“Maybe give him some space?” Peter suggested, and Cheri shook her head, pulling away. 

“It has to happen now, or it - I can’t believe I attacked him like that, without even thinking first. I’m - I’m such an asshole.” She reached for the button to call the elevator, but Peter gently grabbed her wrist before she could push it. 

“Cheri,” he said, taking her chin with his other hand and turning her head towards him. “He needs space, believe me. Let’s… let’s go bake him some cookies or something, first, okay?” 

Cheri gazed at him for a moment, and then allowed him to pull her towards the kitchen. Peter let out a breath of relief, and shifted her attention to this new topic instead. “What kind of cookies are we going to make?” he asked.

“I - he likes oatmeal ones,” Cheri said. “Whenever I’d pick him up lunch from that deli near Stark Tower, he’d ask me to get one of their oatmeal cookies.” 

“Can you bake oatmeal cookies?” Peter questioned. 

“You know I can bake anything,” Cheri sighed. She just hoped it would be enough of a peace offering for Tony to at least allow her to speak to him, if nothing else. 

She couldn’t believe that she’d gone barreling into the conversation like that. Of _ course _ the Avengers had been dealing with losses of their own; Peter had been one of them, and in her haste to blame Tony for a five year period that she didn’t even _ remember, _ she’d completely forgotten about him. Completely forgotten how much losing _ him _ must have hurt Tony at the time. She wasn’t sure who else out of the group had disappeared during the Bad Stuff, but she had to imagine that any number of them would have been a loss for someone, if not all of the ones who’d remained behind. 

And to know that Tony had given up the family that he’d created in the five years no one remembered, to bring back everyone… it made her really fucking sad. She had to wonder if there was a way for them to have brought everyone back _ after _ those five years, so that Tony wouldn’t have lost his family, but she supposed that if there had been, they would’ve taken that route instead. And who knew, in that instance, if she would have ever met Peter? He would have, biologically, been a high schooler, still. She probably wouldn’t know him, and she couldn’t imagine _ not _ knowing him, because by this point, it felt as though he’d always been there. 

Fuck, she needed to apologize. In a major way. 

** 6:03 PM **

Cheri approached the closed door of Tony’s suite with the plate of cookies she’d baked. She’d given them plenty of time to cool, after pulling them from the oven, and she thought they tasted all right. Of course, currently, she imagined things tasted mostly like ash to her because of how shitty she felt, so hopefully they tasted better to Tony, although she doubted it. 

She’d covered the plate with a piece of seran wrap, too, in case he decided he didn’t want them right then. He could save them for later, maybe when he could stomach them. 

She paused outside the door, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She could do this. Tony liked her (maybe not so much right now), and he’d be willing to hear her out. She’d given him space, like Peter suggested, and was bringing him baked goods. That wouldn’t be enough, not by a long shot, but maybe the apology she’d been crafting since she’d started baking _ would. _

She wasn't holding out much hope. 

She used one fist to knock on the door, before she could turn tail and run. After a moment, the door opened. A dark room waited on the other side, and Cheri peered in, wondering if she was actually allowed to enter. 

“When the door opens, that means come in,” Tony’s voice said from somewhere in the darkness. 

Cheri inhaled again, and stepped through the doorway. The door remained open behind her, and she turned. Tony stood near the wall, arms hanging limply by his sides. She couldn’t see his expression, the shadows in the room cast by the light from his three computer monitors making it difficult. 

“Hi,” she said. Her throat felt incredibly dry. “Uh… cookie?” 

Tony stared. “What kind?” he asked, flatly. 

“Oatmeal,” she said. She lifted a shoulder. “You always asked me to get you that kind with your sandwiches.”

Tony let out a noncommittal sound, and moved closer. She blinked down at the plate, watching as he lifted the edge of the seran wrap enough to pull out a single cookie. He let the wrap fall flat again, and Cheri walked over to the desk, placing the plate down on top of it. She turned back to him, saw that he’d sank down onto the edge of the overly large bed. 

“Is it okay?” she asked, hopefully. 

“Not bad,” Tony said through a mouthful. “It’d taste better if I didn’t feel so bitter.”

Cheri winced. “Yeah,” she murmured, glancing down again. 

“FRIDAY, turn the lights up a bit,” Tony said, and immediately, the lights in the room brightened, just enough to drown out the permeating darkness. Cheri blinked a few times, out of relief and in order to help her eyes adjust. Tony must have eaten the whole cookie, because he no longer held it. His eyes were on the floor. 

“Is that it?” 

“Uh, no,” Cheri admitted. “I wanted to apologize, if you’re willing?” 

Tony grunted. “You don’t have to,” he said. “You didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Cheri said. “But I have no excuse for attacking you the way I did. You were right; I don’t remember those five years, and I really… I really shouldn’t question one of the only people who does, and who lost the things they gained during those five years. Since I have no idea what happened, I have no right to yell at you about it, and I’m… I’m sorry for that.” She exhaled. “And I should be thanking you, for choosing the route that you did. It meant that I could have Peter in my life, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Tony’s responding sigh to her monologue was heavy. “That’s one of the reasons I decided to help the others,” he admitted. “I started thinking about all the amazing things the kid would’ve done, were he around, and I knew that I had to give it a chance, to bring him back. He’s - he could change the world. He’s going to, someday.”

“I know,” Cheri said, smiling a little, both out of affection for Peter, and the fact that she understood very well just how brilliant he was. 

“And then there’s you, too,” Tony said, waving his hand. “I mean, I obviously didn’t know that you would come into the picture, but you’re one of the best things to ever happen to him. That’s what he tells me, anyway. I even had to tell the kid to wait to propose until after you graduated, at least.”

Cheri blinked, but decided to file that information away for later on. “You brought him back.” 

“Yeah,” Tony said. “He was only sixteen, when the Bad Stuff happened. He was still a kid. I couldn’t - I _ had _ to do something for him, and I realized it, watching my daughter grow up. Because why… why would it be fair if _ she _ got to do all the things that Peter couldn’t, because I chose to be selfish?” 

“Mr. Stark, you only wanted to keep your family safe,” Cheri said. 

“Peter’s my family,” Tony told her. Cheri didn’t have a response for that, and Tony let his head hang once more. “That’s kind of what I’ve held onto, since everything happened. I lost my wife and daughter, but I got… I got my other kid back. Arguably, my first kid, although there was a little squirt way back in the day who helped me out when I was dealing with a rough patch. I guess he counts.” 

“Couldn’t you have… I don’t know.” Cheri lifted her shoulder. “Reconnected with… uhm.”

“Pepper.”

“Pepper,” Cheri repeated. Tony shook his head. 

“She was a large part of my life,” he said. “But… the romance aspect of it didn’t happen in this timeline, and then she decided to move on, to a teaching position at a school in Philly, so.” He glanced at her. “I didn’t - she’s happy. She doesn’t remember Morgan, doesn’t even know that Morgan was a concept. I’d rather it be that way, than… an alternative.”

Cheri blinked at him. “Would you have died?” she asked, unable to keep the question to herself. 

Tony let out a huff of air. “All I know is that out of fourteen million different ways that whole series of events could have gone, there was only one instance in which _we_ won,” he said. “According to the wizard.”

Cheri gazed at him, eyes burning with tears. The idea of Tony dying to save the rest of the world was _ heartbreaking. _ It wouldn’t have been worth it, for Peter to come back, only to lose his mentor in the process. For the _ world _ to lose Tony. It was unfathomable. But still, he’d lost the family he’d wanted for so long instead. How was that fair? 

Tony watched her for a moment, before standing up from the bed. He walked closer to her. “Listen,” he started. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Peter, when he and I talked about all of this. Everyone we brought back was worth it. For me, it’s been Peter especially. Watching all of the things that he’s managed to accomplish these last few years has been a _ gift, _ one I wouldn’t trade away.” 

“But your daughter…”

Tony shook his head. “I was able to be with her for five years,” he said. “It was five years more than I’d ever thought I’d get, and _ they _were a gift, too, but in the end, I’m one thing before anything else, which is a superhero. And I did what a superhero needed to do: I made a sacrifice.”

“I wish you hadn’t needed to.”

“I do too, but… it was for everybody. Literally.” 

Cheri’s lip quivered. “Can I - uhm.” She gestured with her arms. 

“C’mere,” Tony said with a small smile, holding out his own. Cheri immediately latched onto him, burying her face against his chest. Tony hugged her back, running a hand through her curls for a moment. “Just don’t cry on me,” he said, and Cheri let out a watery laugh in response. 

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark,” she whispered. 

“Yeah, I know,” Tony replied. “Neither of us handled that conversation very well, though.”

“I shouldn’t even have started it with you, the way I did,” Cheri said, lifting her head to look at him. 

“Well, no, that’s true,” Tony agreed, “but hey, it happened, and it’s over, now, so.” He grinned. “Besides, there’s something kind of cool seeing you get angry like that. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you genuinely pissed off, and it was awesome.”

Cheri snorted. “You got angry, too,” she said. “That was kind of scary.”

“Oh, kid, that was nowhere _ near _top-tier Stark anger,” Tony told her. “You never want to see that.”

“Yeah, I hope I never do,” Cheri said. She hugged him a moment longer, and then she took a step back, sniffling. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Tony said. “You wouldn’t think it, but I’ve come to appreciate a good hug every now and then.” 

Cheri chuckled, and then she glanced sheepishly down at the ground. “Did you mean it, when you said that… that you told Peter to wait to ask me to marry him?” she asked, and Tony nodded. “Why, uh… I mean, what made you tell him that?” 

“I could see he was getting ideas, at Nat and Bruce’s wedding,” Tony explained. Cheri’s eyes widened as she realized how long ago that had been. “I figured you wouldn’t want to be planning a wedding in the middle of your last year of school.”

“No, I - yeah,” Cheri said.

“But you do want to marry him, right?” Tony asked, and Cheri’s gaze immediately snapped up to meet his as she nodded. 

“Yes, obviously. I love him.”

“I know,” Tony said, smirking. “Just wanted to see your eyes get all big like that.” He made circles with his hands, and held them up to his eyes, to mimic Cheri’s expression. “Whoo!”

“Jerk,” Cheri mumbled, but she was smiling as well. She gestured towards the cookies. “Don’t eat too many of those. I’m making enchilada soup.”

“Oh, _ hell _ yes,” Tony said, rotating her around by the shoulders and marching her out of the room ahead of him. “That sounds _ delicious.” _

“It will be,” Cheri said, smiling to herself. “It’s my _ abuela’s _ recipe.”

“Bless you, Cheri’s _ abuela,” _ Tony said, “for gifting this young soul with so much fantastic cooking ability, as well as fantastic recipes to go along with it.”

“Mr. Stark, she’s still alive,” Cheri said. 

“Yeah, I know, but somewhere, somehow, she felt me say that. Trust.”

Oddly, Cheri did believe it. Abuela had always been scarily perceptive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured it was necessary to have a chapter to describe exactly how the canon diverges from the MCU itself. This probably doesn't do that as effectively as I'd like, but hey.


	58. A Call Log

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case you forgot there was a plot.

**[STARK TECH MONITORING SYSTEM ACTIVE - SPIDEY SUIT MARK IV]**

**[DATE: 01-07-2024]**

**[TIME: 2:43 PM EASTERN STANDARD]**

**[PINPOINTING LOCATION… LOCATION PINPOINTED - BROADWAY & 86th STREET., NEW YORK, NY, USA] **

**[INCOMING CALL FROM: CHER]**

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Hello?

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Hey, where are you? 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Uh… like, right now?

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ:** Ah, you’re swinging. I got it. I’m glad I decided to call, rather than text. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Yeah, texting and swinging: not one of my best decisions. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Where are you… theoretically? 

**PETER.B.PARKER:** I’m heading down Broadway.

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **So you’re on your way?

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Yeah. I - did I forget something? Please tell me I didn’t forget anything.

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **No, you didn’t. I just thought I’d let you know that she’s here. Again.

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Who? 

[PAUSE]

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Oh. Felicia? 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Yeah. She’s been here for literal hours, Pete. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **You could tell her to go. It is your apartment, too. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **[sighs] I would, but Ned just… it’s almost like he doesn’t care about anyone else, if she’s around, which I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, since she’s here always. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Yeah. Do you - I mean, would you feel more comfortable if I didn’t come home right now, then? Until she left? 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **No, it - that isn’t it. I mean, it’s sort of it, but not. 

[PAUSE]

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **So. If you want to come home, you can, obviously. I just thought I’d let you know that she’s here, so that you can prepare yourself. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **[laughs] Thanks. I’m going to come home. You know, you can tell me if it bothers you. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **If what bothers me? The fact that when you’re here, she pays more attention to you than her own boyfriend? Why would that bother me? It doesn’t bother me.

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Cheri… 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Nope, not bothered by it at all, because I trust you, Queens, even if I don’t trust her whatsoever. About as far as I could throw her. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Treb, you know how strong you are. You could probably toss her maybe a foot, if, like, she was in cannonball position or whatever.

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Yeah, you’re right. Disregard that, then. Are you going to come home? 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Well, how about I do, and then you and I go into our room and lock the door? 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **But isn’t that rude? 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **It’d probably be more rude for you to glare at her evilly the whole time she and I are in the same place. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **I mean, not if she doesn’t notice. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **[chuckles]

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **You don’t think I’m being possessive, do you? 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** No, I don’t, although I do think you’re being a little silly. Felicia is dating _ Ned. _

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** But she stares at _ you. _ Gives _ you _ all her attention when you’re around, instead of Ned. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **See, I don’t think that’s true. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Which I appreciate, because it means you aren’t paying any attention to _ her, _ but still. 

[PAUSE]

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **You said we can lock the door? 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Yes. 

[PAUSE]

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Come home. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **I’m on my way. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Oh, hey, before you go -

**PETER.B.PARKER: **I’m literally ten blocks away. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Well, pop a squat on a lamp post and wait a second. How’s it going with the thief thing? I imagine that’s partially what you were doing out in the middle of the day, looking for more of that graffiti. Did they hit someplace new since Thanksgiving?

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** [sighs] No, no new robberies, and the graffiti... it doesn’t seem to be… I don’t know, connected, I guess. It’s all over the place, but the locations don’t tie together in any way. It’s kind of pissing me off, if I’m being honest. They’ve hit multiple targets over the last few months, and we aren’t any closer to figuring out who it is, or where they’re hiding all the stuff they’ve stolen, which is a _ lot. _

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Hm. Well, maybe there’s just a missing piece that you haven’t found yet, that’ll bring it all together. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Yeah, it’s possible. I just wish I knew what the next target was, so that I could be ready for them. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Don’t worry, Spider-Man. You’ll catch ‘em, whoever they are. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **Sooner rather than later, hopefully. Should I come in through the window? 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Mm, no, I think it’ll send a better message if you come through the front door, and then she’ll _ see _us head into our room. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **I kind of like that, actually. Makes me feel… I don’t know. Like a luxury item. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **You said I’m not being possessive! 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** No, but I _ am _ yours. 

[PAUSE]

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Get up here, holy shit, I cannot believe you just said that _ out loud _ knowing fully well what it’d do to me! 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **[smiling] Changing in an alley right now. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **Mm, I wish I could tear the thing off of you instead, but it probably wouldn’t be a good look for you to come upstairs in your suit. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** My suit is _ always _a good look. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: **[hums] No argument from me there. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: **[laughs] I’m hanging up now. See you in a second. 

**[END CALL]**

**[END RECORDING]**

**[FILE TRANSFERRED TO /SPIDEY.SUIT/VOICE.LOGS/01-2024/…]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's good good stuff next chapter, folks. Man, I'm excited.


	59. A Bowling Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes Peter's advice to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring "intellectual" dialogue that I had to research for. It sucked.

**January 11th, 2024 - Frames Bowling Lounge - 550 9th Ave, Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 8:40 PM**

Tony cracked his knuckles without realizing that he was doing the same thing Peter often did when he was nervous. Tony had no reason to be nervous. Sure, he was waiting in one of 28 bowling lanes, pins set and ready, a pair of… questionably clean bowling shoes on his feet, for Stephen Strange to arrive for a game or two, as he’d said he would, when Tony had sent the inquiry earlier in the week, but, no, no reason to be nervous. 

He could hear the sounds from the rest of the bowling alley in the distance; there were plenty of people there, either at one of the two bars or bowling themselves. Tony had elected to rent out the VIP lane, to eliminate as many of the distractions the alley had to offer as possible, while also affording the two of them privacy to enjoy their own game. 

Which, that was what it was. Just a friendly game of bowling. He definitely hadn’t invited Stephen bowling under the guise of anything but a friendly game. There was no indication that it was meant to be a date. Tony didn’t even know if he really wanted it to be a date. He was probably ready to date, but did he _ want _ to date? 

That was a difficult question to answer. Part of him adamantly said no, he was not, because that part of him would forever be in love with Pepper, and would forever mourn what had been, and what was, quite literally, erased from the fabric of time. The other part of him continued to think about what Peter had said, when they’d had their conversation after New Year’s about this. Peter had seemed to think that Tony had been better, oddly, when he had shown Stephen around the Compound, been in the doctor’s company. And Tony thought that Peter had a point. 

Because he _ did _ like Stephen. It was still weird for him to think about, considering their personalities and how closely related they were. It was a clash of two egos, definitely, but… well. Tony couldn’t be sure, but he thought that maybe the years had… leveled the playing field, a little. He’d always be the arrogant, I’m-the-greatest-in-the-world sort of guy, and Stephen would never let him live down the fact that he’d only stuck to school long enough to get a bachelor’s when he himself had a PhD _ and _ an M.D., but… maybe their experiences had helped them both gain more control over their outlandish sides, the ones that liked to brag and do nothing else. 

Maybe they could form a dynamic that revolved more around what gave them both the right to act the way they used to, which was their numerous accomplishments and their vast knowledge. Conversation with Stephen was stimulating, kept Tony on his toes, and he enjoyed it. Although the same sort of feeling existed when he spoke with Bruce, or even Peter when it came to work, it was… it was different, with Stephen. A good different. 

One that Tony hoped he’d be able to experience that evening, over the course of their not-date. 

“Tony?” 

He looked up at the inquiry, and smiled when he saw Stephen. He was holding a bowling bag. Tony couldn’t help it; he laughed. 

Stephen gave him an amused look. “What?”

“I guess you bowl on a normal basis?” Tony queried, gesturing. 

Stephen hummed, and set the bag down on the wooden floor, settling down on the black leather couch across the lane from Tony’s. He unzipped the bag, and pulled out of it a pair of custom bowling shoes, as well as a sleek black bowling ball inlaid with gold streaks. 

“I used to, before my accident,” he said. Tony watched as Stephen leaned forward, placing the ball on the returner, his hands steady. “I haven’t had much practice since managing to heal myself,” he continued, slipping off the loafers he was wearing and nudging them under the couch, out of the way. 

“Oh, good, so I shouldn’t have to worry?” Tony asked. Stephen merely smiled, lacing up one of the bowling shoes. 

“I suppose we’ll have to see.”

“No, don’t say that,” Tony said, standing up. He gestured towards the screen above the lane that would display their scores. “I already put our names in; I figured it made more sense to… use our real names.”

Stephen chuckled at the memory. “He’s a sweet kid,” he said. “I enjoyed seeing him again, when he was capable of holding a conversation.”

“Yeah, no one’s very good company when they’re dehydrated and heavily drugged,” Tony agreed. He picked up his own ball, which had been designed to match the Iron Man armor, obviously, even though Tony’s own bowling experience pretty much only equated many drunken nights sliding down lanes on his belly. He turned to look at Stephen, who’d finished with his shoes and was leaning back against the couch, an arm slung over the top of it. He looked very at home, Tony thought, which gave him cause to frown, playfully. 

“I think we need to set a few ground rules,” he said, and Stephen tilted his head. 

“Such as?” 

“No magic, first of all,” Tony said, and Stephen sighed. 

“Well, that’s impossible, considering it’s magic keeping my hands from shaking.”

“Okay, aside from magic necessary for normal physical functions,” Tony amended, “no magic.”

“Very well,” Stephen said. “I’ll have to say no flair, then, since I imagine you planned to use quite a lot of it.”

“Flair makes everything more fun, though,” Tony complained. 

“If I can’t use _ my _ form of flair, you aren’t allowed to use yours,” Stephen insisted, and Tony groaned, but nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

“No, I think that covers it,” Tony said. “Everything else is fair game.” 

“Then I believe you are up first,” Stephen said, gesturing to the screen. 

Tony stepped up to the foul line, squared his shoulders, and sent his ball rolling. It hit a respectable seven pins, and he nodded to himself, walking over to the ball returner to pick it up for his second throw. He glanced at Stephen as he did so. 

“Not bad for a first go,” he said, and Stephen shook his head. 

“Not at all.” He nodded towards the remaining pins. “That’s going to be difficult to take care of, though.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Tony assured, and he retrieved his ball. He walked once again to the foul line, tilted his head a little, examining the positioning of the pins, and decided that Stephen was probably right; he wasn’t skilled enough to knock them all down with this throw. 

Sighing, he decided to go for the two that he thought he’d be able to get down. His ball coasted smoothly down the lane, knocking into both. One spun dangerously close to knocking down the third, but in the end didn’t. Tony ended his turn with nine pins down, and he shrugged a little. 

“Could’ve gone worse,” he said, sitting back down. 

“Definitely, you could’ve missed all of them, twice,” Stephen agreed, standing and picking up his own ball. Tony watched as he carried it to the foul line, and straightened his shoulders, ball held to his chest. There was only the tiniest quiver in his hands, Tony noticed, and he frowned a little to himself. How Stephen could deal with such a thing on a regular basis was beyond him, especially considering his entire life prior to the loss of proper use of his hands. 

After a moment, Stephen pulled his arm back, and then rolled his ball forward down the lane. Tony was not surprised when he earned a clean strike on his first try. Stephen straightened up, and walked back over to where Tony sat, stoic. 

“Show off,” Tony muttered, and Stephen cracked a smile, sitting down. “Do they shake all the time?” 

Stephen glanced down at his hands. “No,” he said. “It’s only every so often, and for a very brief moment, until I can get control of them again. I’ve gotten rather good at that.” He looked up at Tony. “I never expected to be exactly the way I was, ever again, but… this is more than I’d hoped for, after a certain, dark point.” 

A look of embarrassment crossed his features, and he turned away, clearing his throat. “I pushed away people who cared about me, who only wanted to help,” he said. “It’s not a time I like to remember.”

“I understand that,” Tony agreed, quietly. “It… y’know, sometimes, though, I wonder if… without that period of time, whether or not I’d be who I am now, and I kind of like who I am, so… I think they were for the best, the hard parts, because I came out better on the other side.” He shook his head a little. “Man, I sound like some sort of sanctimonious shithead, don’t I? Like, preaching about how even though I was the worst at one point, I turned out okay.” 

“No,” Stephen replied, and Tony looked over at him. He shook his head. “You sound like a man who’s spent a lot of time reflecting on his life, and has come to the conclusion that where he is is where he wants to be, that everything in the past has led to it. And that that’s okay.” 

Tony managed a smirk. “And what do you think, all-knowing Master of the Mystic Arts?” he asked, joking only just the slightest bit. “Am I right to feel that way?” 

“Well, that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” Stephen retorted lightly, after a moment, and Tony looked down again.

“Yeah, and I guess that wouldn’t be fair,” he said. He stood up, walked over to the ball returner, picking up his Iron Man bowling ball. He held it in his hands for a moment, studying the paint job, and smiled to himself, before walking up to the foul line. He let the ball roll. 

At the end of the game, the score was 210 to 245, which Tony thought was pretty respectable on both of their parts, considering it had been years since Stephen had bowled, and Tony had never really _bowled._ Their conversation throughout the game was a combination of friendly jabs and intellectual discussion. Tony mentioned Peter’s eventual plans to establish a Stark Industries brand of prostheses, which Stephen thought was an interesting prospect. 

“Tell him that I’d be willing to help, if he ever needed it,” he said. “I have a bit of experience with prostheses; none ever worked for me, of course, but perhaps he could eventually create one that _ would _ work for someone like me.”

“I think that’s his intention,” Tony agreed. “He wants to create something that's basically a replacement limb, that functions just as any would, through the use of the brain, rather than reliant on muscles and tissues that are still in place.” 

“Why is that?” Stephen asked, and Tony shrugged, taking a drink from the mug of beer that a waitress had helpfully brought over maybe ten minutes prior. 

“His Uncle Ben was missing an arm,” he said. “The lower half, his forearm and hand, and he had a prosthesis with a hook on the end, that opened and closed when he flexed. Peter’s father actually helped create that for him, but it was… I don’t know. Clunky is the word that Peter uses a lot. He wants to create something that’s more… realistic. More human-like.” 

“Well, he’s certainly smart enough,” Stephen said, “but he’ll need to be careful, connecting things directly to the motor cortex. Does he have plans laid, for experimentation?” 

“Not yet,” Tony admitted. “It’s… it’s really more of something that he _ wants _ to do, at some point in the future. Right now, he’s pretty busy with all the normal R&D work that he’s doing for the company.” He shrugged, waving his hand. “I’ve told him that he can dedicate as much time and resources as he needs to this project, but I think… I think he’s scared to actually start working on it, in case it doesn’t go where he would like it to.”

“I can understand that,” Stephen sighed. “I’m sure you can, too.”

“Ah, well.” Tony shook his head. “I never really needed to worry about failing, because it - my resources never dried up. If I had an idea, I could borrow as much money as I needed and give it a shot. If it didn’t work out, it wasn’t a big deal; I’d make some tweaks and go at it a different way. My dad never even noticed. Peter’s not used to that sort of luxury. Plus the kid still has plans to go back to school, get a master’s. He wants a doctorate, too, he’s told me, but he…” 

Tony trailed off. He was sharing a lot about Peter, he realized. He’d shared very little about himself throughout the evening, other than at the beginning of the game. Stephen had to have noticed, having gone into a bit of discussion about his own life prior to his magic stuff, that he was giving Tony a lot more personal information than Tony was giving him. 

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I - I’m giving you Peter’s life story, and I haven’t… I’ve barely talked about myself.” 

“Mm, that’s typical for a parent, I think,” Stephen told him. “Especially one who’s very proud of their child’s accomplishments, and Peter does have quite a few.”

Tony let out a quiet noise that could have been a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “but that’s not… that wasn’t really my goal, inviting you to go bowling.”

“Oh, was there a goal?” Stephen queried, leaning back. “I thought we were just here to have a good time, which… this has been, much to my surprise.” He examined Tony for a moment. “I have to admit, I didn’t care for you, when we first met.”

“To be fair, it was over a discussion of an alien invasion that was meant to end in the obliteration of half the living population. Of the entire universe,” Tony said. “Emotions were running pretty high.”

“True,” Stephen conceded. “And you did follow a spaceship into space to save my life, despite you not liking me, either, which is… one of the bravest things anyone’s ever done for me. An ex-girlfriend of mine performed surgery on me, once, alone, without a nurse, so.” He offered Tony a smile. "But going into space? Pretty high on the list." 

Tony shrugged. “I’m a superhero, it’s what I do.” Stephen chuckled, and Tony smiled as well. “Anyway, you had one of the things that the bad guys wanted, so it could be argued I went to space to save _ that, _ rather than you, but…”

Stephen sighed. “And here I was thinking you risked your life for mine,” he said, despondently. “Rather than for a sparkly rock.”

“A rock that controls the flow of time,” Tony said. 

Stephen considered. “Well… that’s fair.” 

They shared a laugh, and then Tony took another sip of beer before he stood, cracking his knuckles again. “All right, I still have a chance to bring this back,” he said, looking up at the screen, which at that point had read 120 and 150. 

“Yes, it’s good to hang onto hope,” Stephen told him, reaching for his own mug. 

The game ended, and they strongly debated the merits of doing a second, before ultimately deciding against it. Tony carried his shoes back to the rental counter. He returned to their lane, and found Stephen had slid his loafers back on, and was zipping up his bag. Tony grabbed his ball, holding it under one arm, and said, “Y’know, this place has a karaoke lounge.”

“It is rather upscale,” Stephen agreed, glancing around. 

“Yeah, there’s ping pong, and pool… which I am _ much _ better at than bowling, believe me,” Tony added, and Stephen smiled. 

“Are you inviting me to ask you to prove it?” he asked. Tony lifted his shoulders. 

“If you don’t already believe it, maybe,” he said. “Or… y’know. The Tower isn’t too far from here. We could head there instead, up to the penthouse, have a nightcap.”

Stephen checked his watch. “A nightcap at 9:30?” he asked, amused. 

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Tony said, “but I stopped being able to drink after midnight when I was 45.”

“I’m not 45 yet, Tony.”

“Well. You’ll get it when you are.”

Strange chuckled. “I appreciate the offer, and I did have fun, but I should get back to the Sanctorum. I trust Wong implicitly, but I don’t like to be away for long.”

“That’s fair,” Tony said, his shoulders falling. “I had to try.” 

Stephen examined him. “So this _ was _ a date, then,” he said after a moment, and Tony sighed. 

“I don’t know.” Stephen lifted an eyebrow. “It’s hard to figure, that’s all. I didn’t - after everything happened with Pepper and the changes in the timeline, I decided I didn’t want to look for someone else, but… I don’t know.” 

Stephen stood up from the couch, and walked over to where Tony stood near the ball returner. Tony did not move, even with the close proximity. This was partially a mix of his choice to try and be stoic, and _ wanting _ to be close to Stephen. The lights in the VIP lane room were fairly dim, but that did not stop him from noticing how blue the doctor’s eyes were. 

“I was never any good at dating,” Stephen finally said, speaking quietly. 

“Me either. Don’t ask me how I ended up married, once, because even I have no idea.”

Stephen smiled, and reached out, taking the bowling ball from Tony’s hands. He set it down on the ball returner, and turned back to Tony. “Just in case,” he said, and Tony nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to speak. This was _ different, _ he realized, just like everything seemed to be, when it came to Stephen. He had no idea what to do, and Tony felt as though he _ always _ knew what to do, or at least pretended that he did.

Maybe it was time for him to let someone else take the lead. He could try that, right? Since he was apparently trying all sorts of new things, nowadays. 

Stephen studied his face for a moment, before glancing downwards. “Do you recall when I told you that what you all had done had given you the best ending?” he finally asked. 

“Yeah, _this_ version of me,” Tony said. “I said that was hard to believe, sometimes.” 

“I know,” Stephen said. He looked up again, met Tony’s eyes. “And I completely understand why you feel that way.” 

_ Dear God, he’s taller than me, _ Tony realized suddenly. _ He is at least ten years younger than I am, and he’s taller than me. _

“I can’t help but feel, however, that you perhaps deserve something that helps with that belief, in some way,” Stephen continued. “After all, you did save the world.” 

“More than once,” Tony put in, softly. 

The corner of Stephen’s mouth raised. “Yes,” he amended. “More than once.” After another moment, Tony felt a hand settle on his waist, and then Stephen was bending, a little, and they were kissing. 

_ Okay. Wow. I am the _ most _ out of practice, _ Tony thought vacantly as his eyes fell shut, and he reached up a hand, placing it on the back of Stephen’s neck. He breathed outwards through his nose, amazed by how chaste this kiss was, considering their shared need for dominance, but it was good. _ Different. _

The kiss broke off, but the hand Tony had on the back of his neck meant that Stephen could not pull away fully. Instead, his forehead lingered against Tony’s as they both simply breathed for a moment. 

Finally, Tony smirked and said, “I just kissed a wizard.” 

Stephen laughed. “I just kissed Iron Man.”

“Mm, you’ve got me beat,” Tony told him. “I’ve heard Iron Man’s quite a catch.”

“When he isn’t being a child, I’m sure he is,” Stephen agreed. His other hand had settled on Tony’s opposite hip at some point during their kiss, and now he squeezed it, gently. “But something tells me he’s matured a bit in his old age.”

“Yeah, I think saving the world more than once will do that to a guy, definitely,” Tony said, and using the leverage he had on Stephen’s neck, pulled him back in for another kiss. 

He had to give it to Peter, he figured in the back of his mind. Apparently, bowling was a _ fantastic _ date idea. He’d never doubt the kid when it came to romance again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of drunkenly sliding down a bowling alley lane on your belly was definitely not inspired by real life or anything like that.


	60. A Night At The Compound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's at the Compound. As such, it all becomes a bit sitcom-y.

**January 19th, 2024 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 5:12 PM**

“Oh, yikes,” Ned said, quickly lifting the cup of soda that he’d knocked over with his elbow. “Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said, moving to mop up what had spilled before it could spread. He looked over at Ned, watching as he shifted his laptop sideways, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “What are you working on?” 

“A new HTML code for a website,” Ned said, sighing. “I don’t really… know what the website’s for, though.”

Steve smiled. “Ah.” He finished wiping off the counter, and dropped the paper towels into the garbage can. “Are you hungry?” 

Ned looked over at him. “I mean, yeah,” he said, “but I should really get this done.”

Steve shook his head. “How do you expect to get any work done if you’re hungry?” he asked. “Besides, it’s important to take breaks.” He turned towards the fridge, pulling it open. “What do you want?” 

“It -” Ned stopped talking, sighed again. “Whatever you feel like making, I guess. Thanks, Cap.”

Steve retrieved the makings for grilled cheese, pulling a loaf of bread down from on top of the fridge. He turned to face the counter again, looking at Ned once more as he prepared the slices. “You like working on things here at the Compound,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah,” Ned replied, glancing up at him. “I don’t really know why. I guess I just - I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Peter’s always doing work here, and he gets so much done. I think it’s like, the environment or something.”

“Sure,” Steve said. “It was a place for hard working superheroes; might as well be a place for hard working young adults, too.” 

“Right.” Ned typed a few more things onto his keyboard, before he grunted and closed the device. “So much for that, though, I guess.”

“I’m sure you just need to give it some breathing room, and then go back to it later on,” Steve told him. He finished with the bread, and carried the plate over to the stove, pulling out a pan to cook them in. “Do you want soup with it?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“No, thank you,” Ned said, shifting on the bar stool he was seated on. 

As Steve placed the bread slices down in the pan, and then carefully laid some cheese on top of them, Cheri entered the room, carrying an over the shoulder bag and a large stack of papers. “Hey,” she greeted, dumping both things on the counter and sinking down onto a bar stool as well, cradling her face in her hands. 

“Hard day?” Ned guessed, and Cheri blew a raspberry in response. He smiled. “You asked for it.”

“I did, didn’t I?” she sighed, lifting her hand and brushing back her curls with her fingers. The school hadn’t permitted her to wear bandannas, and she hadn’t had time to go out and find some sort of headband to do her bandanna's job yet. “Shit.” 

“You’re student teaching now, right?” Steve asked, turning away from the stove, holding a spatula, and Cheri nodded. “Having a hard time dealing with the kids?” 

“Well, some of them refuse to accept me as a ‘real teacher’,” she replied, “so, that makes my days super fun.” She patted the stack of papers. “And I have all of these to grade by Sunday, so that the teacher can get them back to the kids on Monday.”

Steve pointed the spatula at her. “You also need food,” he said, and lowered the heat on the stove so that he could prepare a sandwich for her as well. 

“Captain Rogers, you really don’t need to -”

“Why would you resist food?” Ned asked, and Cheri let her mouth fall closed. He had a point. 

Steve smiled as he finished with the slices for Cheri’s sandwich, and carried them over to the stove as well. “He’s right,” he said over his shoulder. “Always let me cook for you. Makes me feel useful.”

About ten minutes later, Tony and Peter entered the kitchen, talking over a schematic. Tony looked up, first, and raised an eyebrow to see both Ned and Cheri sitting at the counter, eating grilled cheese, while Steve stood at the stove cooking up a third and fourth sandwich. 

“What the hell’s going on in here?” he asked, and all three turned to look at him. 

“Captain Rogers made us food,” Ned said. “For energy.”

“He wouldn’t let me help,” Cheri added, finishing up one half of her sandwich. Peter walked over to where she sat and placed a kiss on her head. “I have a lot of tests to grade.”

“Tests already?” he asked, sitting down on the bar stool next to her. “Didn’t the kids just get back?” 

“It’s a pre-test,” Cheri replied. “The teacher wants to see where they all are, right now, before he starts teaching.”

“How do you even do tests for music?” Tony sat down on Peter’s other side. Like magic, two grilled cheese sandwiches appeared in front of both of them. Neither said anything; both simply started to eat them. 

“A lot of ways. This section is note reading,” Cheri responded, leaning past Peter to show him one of the pages in the test. “He wants to make sure that they can actually read music before he tries to teach them anything. If they can’t read it, they can’t play it. Or sing it. Whatever.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He took the test from her, getting it oily from his grilled cheesy fingers. “Huh. I didn’t even know you read music.”

“How do you think you play an instrument?” Cheri asked, frowning at him. 

“I don’t know. You just do it,” Tony replied, returning the test to the stack. “Have fun grading those, I guess. Gross.”

“I know,’ Cheri said with a sigh. “I’m going to be seeing the melody of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ in my dreams.” 

Peter finished his sandwich, and a second appeared in its place. He picked up one of the diagonally cut pieces, and bit into it, humming thoughtfully. “The teacher designed the pre-test around ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’?” 

“It’s easily recognizable,” Cheri said. “I doubt people even know that there’s actual notes that correspond with each syllable.” She shrugged, pushed her empty plate away from her, and slid off of the bar stool. “Thanks for the sandwich, Cap.” 

“No problem,” Steve replied from the other side of the counter, where he was finally plating a sandwich of his own.

Cheri slid the papers from the counter into her arms, sighing a bit to herself. She looked at Peter. "We're staying here tonight, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said, "but we'll need to head back into the city tomorrow. I'm helping with a search for the person who's been stealing all the art."

Ned huffed. "Do you have to? You being out all night is bad for the baby."

Peter's eyes went wide. If possible, Tony's went even wider. "Baby? What baby?" he demanded, while Peter turned to Cheri, speechless. Cheri rolled her eyes upwards, and then looked at Ned, scowling.

Ned glanced down, sheepish. "It's me," he said, quietly. "I'm baby."

The relief that exuded from the two engineers then could've powered an entire skyscraper. Peter reached for Cheri's hand. "You'd tell me if there was a baby, right?"

"There won't be," Cheri replied, squeezing his hand, "but yes, I'd tell you." She adjusted her grasp on her tests. "I'm gonna start grading."

Peter watched her go, and then looked at Ned. “Why would you say something like that?"

"'Cause I thought it'd be funny, duh."

Peter shook his head, and then gestured to Ned's laptop. "What’re you working on?” 

“HTML code.”

“For what?” 

“No freakin’ clue,” Ned replied, finishing off his second sandwich. He slid off of the bar stool as well, grabbing his laptop. “I should be getting back to the apartment; Harry said he wanted my help with blind installation or something.” He shook his head. “Don’t know why he thinks _ I’ll _ be able to help with that.” 

“See you, Ned,” Peter said as he walked off, his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey, we’ll leave the build for tomorrow,” Tony said from beside him, and Peter looked over at him. Tony shrugged. “You could help Cheri with her grading.”

“Yes, because I’d rather do _ that _ than do work in the lab,” Peter said. 

“Wouldn’t you rather hang out with her than with me?” Tony prompted. 

Peter did not reply for a moment, finishing off his sandwich instead. When it was gone, he dusted off his hands over the plate, and pushed away from the counter. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said, and Tony waved after him, watching as he exited the kitchen. 

Once he was gone, Tony turned forward, looking at Steve, who was smiling to himself. “What?” he asked, and Steve glanced at him. 

“Nothing,” he said, and he took another bite of his sandwich. “Nothing at all.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Tony idly studying his phone while Steve ate. After a time, Tony inhaled, and Steve glanced over at him. 

“Did Nat and Bruce decide on that house?” Tony asked. 

Steve tilted his head, wondering if he really wanted an answer, or if he was only asking in order to be a good friend. After a moment, he said, “I think they decided it was too close to the city.”

“Right,” Tony said. “I guess that makes sense.” He lowered his phone to the counter, rested his head between his hands. “Well, they’ll find a place eventually.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, more than a little surprised. He shouldn’t have been, however, considering that Tony was talking to _ him _ about it, rather than Bruce. He wanted to know, but didn’t want to involve himself in an obvious way. That was a very Tony way of acting. 

“You know,” Steve went on, “you could just ask _ them.” _

“Well, they’re not around _ to _ ask, are they?” Tony retorted, already defensive. He picked up his phone again, and slid off the bar stool. “I’ll be in the lab.” He walked away, and Steve thought he heard him begin a conversation with someone on the phone, before he was out of earshot. 

Steve watched him go. He felt bad, for Tony, for Bruce and Nat, and for himself, for being stuck in the middle of it. He’d thought he’d talked some sense into Tony on New Year’s Eve, which he supposed he had, since Tony wasn’t sulking about the fact that they were moving out of the Compound, but it clearly hadn’t been enough to convince Tony to be unconditionally happy for the couple. 

Of course, Steve didn’t expect him to be, not even once they found a place and were gone. Tony wasn’t selfish, far from it, but like he’d said, he hated change. Bruce and Natasha leaving the Compound was a big change. Tony would be happy that they’d decided on what they thought was better for them, but he would still be upset that two of his closest friends would no longer be living with him. 

Steve sighed to himself, and finished his meal, before gathering all the dishes and making quick work of them. Once they were all in the drying rack, he wiped his hands on a dish towel and headed for the elevator himself. As he walked past Peter’s suite on the way there, he heard laughter coming from inside, and paused to listen, smiling a little to himself. 

“Stop doing that!” he heard Cheri exclaim. 

“You asked me to help you; that’s what I’m doing,” Peter replied, a smile in his voice. 

“I didn’t ask you to do shit,” Cheri told him. “And even if I _ did, _ you throwing papers at me like that is _ not _ helping.”

“What do you mean?” Peter queried. “It’s giving you incentive to grade more quickly.” 

“Man, you’re a pain in the ass,” Cheri said, but she was smiling too, Steve could tell. 

“Ah, but I’m _ your _ pain in the ass,” Peter reminded her. 

“Exactly,” Cheri sighed. “Come here, pain.” 

Steve moved away from the door, continuing to the elevator. He pressed the button for it, and stepped inside when it arrived. He hit the button for the third floor, where his own suite was, and leaned back against the wall as the elevator took its five second trip between floors. 

He headed down the hall to his and Bucky’s suite, and slid into the room as quietly as he could, aware that Bucky was resting. He and Sam had been out late the night before. Not even he could avoid Bucky’s hearing, however, and almost as soon as he stepped into the room, his partner was sitting up, blinking.

“Hey,” he greeted, stretching. 

“You should go back to sleep,” Steve said, walking over to the bed. Bucky smiled, and shook his head. 

“I’m all right. What’ve you been up to?” 

“Nothing much,” Steve replied. He sat down. “Peter and Cheri are here again, for the night, so I made them all food. Tony’s still upset about Bruce and Natasha leaving. Pretty much how it always is.”

“Mm.” Bucky scooted across the bed, joining him at the foot of it. “You’re good at mothering everyone,.” 

Steve snorted. “Thanks,” he said. “You always make it a point to highlight my best qualities.” 

“That’s one of _ my _ best qualities,” Bucky responded. 

“You’re right,” Steve agreed, leaning forward and kissing him. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, pulling back a bit. “Let’s go for a run.” 

Steve smiled, and nodded. “That sounds like a great idea.”

**5:40 PM**

“You could talk to him.”

Tony snorted. “Your ideas get worse and worse the longer we have this conversation,” he said. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Tony, Dr. Banner is one of your closest friends,” Stephen reminded him. “If you can’t talk to _ him, _ you shouldn’t be able to talk to anyone, aside from Peter.” Tony did not respond, and Stephen let out a patient breath, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall of the lab, which he’d created a portal to soon after receiving a call from Tony, saying he wanted to see him. “You’re being very childish about this.”

“Mm, right, and I’m not allowed to be a child,” Tony scoffed, angrily throwing down the screwdriver he’d been fiddling with. It cut a mark into the wooden top of the workbench he sat at, and he cursed, tracing the mark with his pointer finger. Some of his annoyance faded, seeing the mark, and his shoulders fell. Here he was, throwing a tantrum. 

“Sorry,” he said, voice lowered. “I - I didn’t call you because I wanted to force you to listen to me complain.”

“I’m happy to listen,” Stephen said. “It’s when you don’t seem willing to make any changes to help stop you from needing to complain that I get annoyed.” He crossed the space between them, steeping up behind Tony, and rested his hands on his shoulders. “I’d like to help, but you’re not letting me.”

Tony exhaled, and reached up, covering one of Stephen’s hands with his own. “I know,” he said. “I’m just… I don’t know. I guess I’m not ready to talk about this with him. I know this is what’s best for him, for his marriage, but it… he’s my friend, y’know? My lab partner. I don’t… if he leaves, I’m going to be down here by myself, just like I always was.” He lowered his hand again, traced the mark left by the screwdriver once more. “It’ll feel like going backwards.”

Stephen considered this new information for a moment. “Do you think that could lead to a personal regression?” he asked, and Tony nodded slightly. Stephen had to smile, and he briefly massaged Tony’s shoulders. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Huh?” The noise was one of confusion, but it also sounded as though Tony wasn’t listening, most likely too focused on the feeling of the massage. Stephen stopped, in order to get his full attention back. 

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he repeated. “You won’t go back to any form of Tony Stark that you don’t like, because I’ll be here to help make sure of that.”

“You’ll be here,” Tony said. 

“Yes,” Stephen assured. He spun the stool Tony sat on around until Tony faced him instead of the workbench, and bent down slightly, so that he was eye level with him. “I promise.”

“You shouldn’t promise me things unless you mean them,” Tony said after a moment. “I’ve been betrayed quite a lot, and my sensitive heart can’t take it.” 

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Your dramaticism cannot be paralleled,” he said, and Tony chuckled, but the sound held no humor. Stephen met his eyes. “I mean it. Okay? Because, believe it or not, I think I like this Tony Stark, and I’d like him to stay around.” 

Tony reached out and cupped his jaw. “That’s good,” he said, “because I think I like this wizard.”

“You’re one of very few,” Stephen told him, and then he smiled. “But I’m glad you’re part of that number.” 

“Would you kiss me already, Magic Man?” Tony asked, impatiently, and Stephen’s smile widened before he leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly to Tony’s. When he pulled back, Tony sighed a little, and looked up at him. “You really think I should talk to Bruce?” 

“I do,” Stephen replied. He traced his thumb over Tony’s cheek. “I think he’d like to know that you understand his reasoning for leaving, and support his decision, as his friend.”

Tony tilted his head, widening his eyes a little. “You wouldn’t agree to come with me, if I asked you to?” he queried, blinking, and Stephen snorted slightly, taking a step back. 

“I’m not susceptible to that expression,” he said. “The Tony Stark puppy dogs eyes do not work on me. Yet.”

“Yet,” Tony repeated, grinning, and Stephen sighed as Tony stood up and moved around him, leaning up and kissing his cheek as he passed. “Don’t go anywhere! I have a very, _ very _ smoky single malt that I think you’ll love.”

“Mm, how could I say no to that?” Stephen queried. “But… do you mind if I don’t keep myself confined down here? I’d like to wander, if that’s acceptable.”

“Oh, sure, buttercup, my Compound is your Compound,” Tony responded, looking over at him again. “Just… don’t go snooping into my suite. Unless you plan on staying there for good.”

Stephen lifted his eyebrows. “That implies you’d keep me trapped there.”

“Of course I would,” Tony told him. “Though I wouldn’t necessarily say _ trapped. _ You’d enjoy it.”

Stephen smirked, and watched Tony leave the lab, the door sliding closed behind him. After glancing around for a moment, Stephen exhaled a breath. “FRIDAY?” 

“Yes, Doc?” the AI chirped immediately. 

Stephen took a moment to consider his question before asking: “Has Tony been… all right, lately?” 

“Boss’s levels have all been relatively normal,” FRIDAY answered. “He hasn’t experienced a panic attack within the last two weeks, if that’s what you mean to ask.”

“Partially, I suppose,” Stephen said, quietly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” There was a pause, as Stephen started to make for the doors of the lab himself, but he paused when the AI said, “Doc?” 

“Yes?” 

“Boss has actually been doing very well,” FRIDAY said. “He doesn’t spend more than twelve hours down here in the lab, and he’s been getting eight hours of sleep a night, for the past week or so. Since his scheduled meeting with you, really.”

Stephen smiled. “That’s good to hear,” he said. 

“It seems you’re a good influence on him, sir,” FRIDAY continued. “He’s been even-keeled.” 

“Which is different for him?” Stephen guessed. 

“When looking at the last few years,” FRIDAY agreed. 

“Right.” Stephen glanced around for a moment longer, and then he nodded to himself. “I’m glad to help.” 

“Sure,” FRIDAY said, “but Doc?” 

“Mhm?” 

“I’d ask that you don’t stick around, if you don’t think you’ll get as much out of this as Mr. Stark is,” the AI said. She sounded apologetic, almost. _ Can artificial intelligence _ be _ apologetic? _ Stephen supposed that Tony Stark’s AI could be. “I only ask as a means to look out for him. If you were to leave, later on, after he’d adjusted to having you around as a normal, comforting presence… the worst could happen. If you don’t plan to become as invested in this relationship as Boss seems to be, already, you should perhaps end it now.” 

Stephen had to take a moment before responding. “That… that’s not an unreasonable request, FRIDAY,” he said, slowly. “And I’ll… I’ll be sure to take it into consideration. But as this relationship is very new… I’m afraid I cannot say whether or not I’ll be getting the same thing out of this as your creator.”

“Well… then once you _ do _ know, one way or the other…”

“You have my word,” Stephen assured her. 

“Good.” FRIDAY’s voice did not speak again, and Stephen lingered in the lab for another moment before he walked forward, the doors sliding open for him. 

**5:50 PM**

Tony snapped his fingers nervously as he lingered just outside of the third floor kitchen. He could hear Natasha and Bruce in there, talking quietly as they cooked dinner for themselves. He knew that it would be best to just go in there, and get the conversation started, but he didn’t know _ how _ to do that. Start the conversation. 

He exhaled a slow breath, to steady his racing heart, and walked casually into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. Bruce glanced up only after Natasha nudged him, having heard Tony enter, and Tony saw his friend’s face light up. 

“Hey, Tone,” he greeted, setting aside the book he held. Natasha stood at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smell ridiculous spicy and delicious. 

“Hey,” Tony returned. He leaned up on his toes, and settled back down again, glancing around the kitchen for a moment. “Y’know, I didn’t put too much thought into the design of the kitchens, since I don’t cook,” he said after a moment. “When the Compound was going up, I just… y’know. Told them to do whatever was in.” He gestured. “Guess white on white was what it was. Steel appliances. Very HGTV.”

“They’re nice kitchens,” Natasha said, and Tony shrugged. 

“Yeah, suppose so.” He tilted his head a little, not looking at either of them. “Probably won’t find as nice a one in some house out in the suburbs.”

He heard Bruce sigh, outwards, and glanced over at them long enough to see him offer Natasha a quick look. Natasha silently lowered the heat on the burner she was using, pressed a kiss to Bruce’s cheek, and walked out of the kitchen. Once she was gone, Bruce leaned his hands on the counter top, studying Tony. 

“Tone -”

“No, I’m not… I’m not here to pick a fight,” Tony said, putting up a hand. Bruce blinked, his eyebrows raising. He inclined his chin, a little, an indication for Tony to keep going. “I just… I’ve been beating myself up about this whole thing since New Year’s, and I… I shouldn’t be. I should be offering to help you guys look for a place, giving you my support, because this _ is _ what’s best for the two of you, and as your friend, I need to accept that, and… y’know. Give you a kick in the rear to actually buy a house and move the hell out of my Compound, you traitors.”

Bruce smiled a little, and lowered his eyes to the counter top. “Well…”

“No, hold on,” Tony interrupted, and Bruce fell silent again, waiting. “I - I’m sorry, that I… I acted the way I did, to the news of your very adult, mature decision, that makes complete and total sense. I just… I don’t want to lose what we have, what we’ve _ had.” _ Bruce glanced up again, and Tony lifted his shoulders. “You’re my best friend, Bruce, and I just felt like, if you weren’t around, weren’t quietly working beside me in the lab, maybe that friendship would change, or disappear entirely. But that’s not going to happen, because I’m not going to let it.” 

“And neither will I,” Bruce put in. Tony met his gaze, and Bruce shook his head. “Tony, you know how important our friendship is to me. I’ve been able to do some amazing stuff with your help, over the last few years, and I’ve… we’ve gone through _ a lot _ together. Me moving an hour or two away isn’t going to erase that.” 

“Two whole hours, huh?” Tony asked, quietly. 

“Yeah, we’re… there’s a couple of nice places we’re planning on looking at, down in Mount Vernon,” Bruce told him. Silence fell, and Bruce walked around the counter, closer to where Tony stood. “We’ll be around, though. For dinners, and… y’know, I won’t be able to stay away from the lab forever.” 

Tony snorted a little, and glanced at him. “No, and I hope that you don’t,” he said. “We do good work down there, together.”

“I know,” Bruce agreed. They studied one another for a moment. “I appreciate you talking to me about this, Tone, really. It… it means a lot, to know that you _ do _ understand our choice, deep down.”

“No, I understand it on a surface level, too,” Tony said. “I just didn’t want to admit it at first, because it’s not what’s best for _ me.” _ He reached out, nudged Bruce’s shoulder with his fist. “But that’s not what’s important, here. This is for you and Nat, what’s best for _ you _ guys, and… and I know that you’re going to be really happy, to have a home of your own.” 

Bruce smiled again. “Thank you, Tony,” he said, and held out his hand. Tony ignored it, and went straight for a hug instead. Bruce did not argue. These types of Tony affection were rare, and he figured he might as well milk them all out now, while he was still living in the Compound, although he imagined they would probably increase tenfold once he moved out. 

Tony sniffled a little, gave Bruce a couple manly pats on the back, and pulled out of the hug again. “Okay,” he said, with a brave face. “Uh… somewhere in the Compound there is a Master of the Mystic Arts whom I’ve recently been allowed to kiss, and I’m going to go find him, and hopefully get him drunk on whiskey, so that maybe he’ll loosen his robes a little bit for me.”

“Gross,” Bruce said, amicably. “Have fun.”

“I plan on it,” Tony replied, shooting him a pair of finger guns before walking out of the kitchen again. Natasha returned a few moments later, and walked back over to the stove to check on the curry. 

“How did it go?” she asked. 

“Do you really need me to answer that question?” Bruce asked, picking up his book again. 

“Hm." She stirred the food for a moment. "I’m glad he finally decided to be an adult about this.”

Bruce shook his head to himself in amusement, and attempted to find the place on the page where he’d left off.


	61. Before School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri and Harry have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that their names rhyme, and yes, it is a bane on my existence please don't point it out to me.

**January 23rd, 2024 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 6:15 AM**

The alarm on Cheri’s cell phone chirped viciously from where the device rested on the bedside table. Cheri sighed, and leaned up over Peter, reaching across him to turn it off. She started to slide out of bed, but Peter grabbed for her, successfully twisting his fingers in the back of the shirt she’d slept in. 

“Mm, no,” he said, sleepily. “Come back.”

“Gotta go to school, goof,” Cheri said, slightly amused. She reached back, untangled his fingers from her shirt. 

Peter groaned. “Why don’t you change your career choice?” he murmured. “Then you can stay here, with me.”

Cheri smiled at him. “And waste four years of college? Sorry, not even for you, _ mi corazón.” _

She climbed off the bed while Peter huffed behind her, and got dressed in the dark. Once she had her clothes on, she walked over to where he lay in the bed, and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Better get used to it now; aside from summers, this’ll be every day for the next forty-five plus years.”

“Oh no,” Peter whined, but Cheri could tell he didn’t mean it. In fact, a moment later, he was snoring again, softly. Cheri grinned, grabbed her cell phone and laptop off their chargers, placed both in her bag, and ducked out of the bedroom. She closed the door softly behind her. 

After visiting the bathroom, she walked into the living room, and almost shrieked when she saw someone sitting on the couch. She managed to hold it back, however, and relaxed when she recognized the figure to be Harry. 

“What the hell are you doing up?” she asked, setting her bag down and walking towards the kitchen. 

“Ah, good morning to you, too,” Harry said, a little dryly. He followed her to the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” Cheri said, but she didn’t really mean it. She poured herself a glass of milk and dropped some bread into the toaster. “You scared me.” 

Harry sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Cheri glanced sideways at him, worried. It must have shown on her face, because Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m _ fine, _ Cheri,” he said. “Sometimes a person just can’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but it’s usually because there’s something on your mind,” Cheri replied. The toaster popped up, and she grabbed the toast, reaching up into a cabinet for the peanut butter. As she spread it across the slices, she watched Harry. “So, do you wanna talk about it?” 

Harry was silent for a moment, at least until she offered him one of the pieces of toast. He sighed a little, but took it, and said, “I don’t like Ned’s girlfriend.”

Cheri blinked. “Okay,” she said. This had not been the topic she’d expected. “Uh… why not?” 

Harry lifted his shoulders. “I don’t really know,” he admitted. “She’s just… weird, I guess. Like… overly clingy?” 

Cheri thought she knew what he meant. “You mean, like, how she’s here all the time?” she asked, and Harry nodded. 

“Like that, yeah,” he said. “I mean, they’ve only _ really _ been dating for, like, two months, and before that, they knew one another for three weeks. It just - I don’t know. It rubs me the wrong way.”

Cheri was actually kind of relieved. She’d wanted to bring it up herself, more than once, how odd it was that Felicia and Ned were already attached at the hip. She was always with him, and it still seemed to Cheri that it wasn’t because she liked Ned, either. She _ still _ thought it had something to do with who Ned lived with, namely, Peter. She hadn’t _ really _said anything since The Fight in November, however, for the sake of trying to show that she was doing better. Even if secretly she was still concerned by Felicia’s frequent presence. 

Now, though, that Harry had mentioned his own feelings on the matter, she felt like she could speak openly. “I agree with you,” she said. Harry glanced at her, and she nodded. “Yeah. It - do you ever get the sense that she isn’t necessarily around Ned for _ Ned, _ too?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “She’s… whenever she’s here, she kind of ignores him, which is _ weird, _ because she should be here _ for _ him, right?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Cheri said. She sighed to herself, suddenly not really wanting to eat her toast anymore. She did finish her milk, however, and rinsed the glass. She offered what remained of the toast to Harry, who took it without complaint. As she rinsed the plate, she considered. Maybe there was more to it than just the basest of human attraction. 

“What if…” She trailed off, and shook her head. “No, never mind.”

“What?” Harry prompted. 

“I just… what if she knows who Peter is,” Cheri said, “and she’s using Ned to get close to him?” 

Harry frowned. “How would she know that Peter‘s Spider-Man?” he asked. 

“That’s the part I don’t know,” Cheri admitted. “But doesn’t it seem… weird? Just, how often she’s here, and how little attention she gives Ned while she is? And, sure, sometimes she’s messing with you, but usually it’s Peter, right?” 

“Well… unfortunately,” Harry began, “Peter _ is _ more attractive than Ned and I, so.”

“I’m glad you’ve admitted that to yourself,” Cheri said, only a little amused, “but I’m being serious, Harry.”

“I know,” he said. He finished the toast, dusted his hands off with a shrug. “I just don’t know what she’d want to gain from this. If she _ did _ know about Peter, wouldn’t she have blasted his identity all over the place by now?” 

“She might not want everyone to know,” she said. “She could want something from him.”

“Hm.” Harry didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know about that, Cheri, but I _ do _ know that I’m tired of her being here all the time, though. She’s kind of the worst, I think.”

Cheri smiled slightly. “Finally got past her feminine charm, hm?” 

Harry made a face, and she chuckled, walking around him out of the kitchen and grabbing her bag. “We should look more into it,” he said, following her. 

“We will,” Cheri said, “but right now, I need to head to school.” She gestured towards the hall. “Don’t mention this to them, all right? We don’t want to start a fight with Ned without knowing anything, and Peter will think we’re being silly.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Harry sighed. “Okay. See you later, Cheri.”

“Have a good day,” Cheri said, and she gave him a wink. “Say hi to Liz for me.”

She ducked out of the apartment, hearing the dull thud as the pillow Harry had grabbed off the couch to throw at her hit the door instead. She grinned to herself, and headed downstairs to her car. At least she knew that she wasn’t alone in her mistrust of Felicia Hardy anymore. Maybe she could do a little research, during lunch, see if there was anything about her on the easily accessible parts of the internet. If not, she may need to call in that favor she had with Bruce by doing the cake for his and Nat’s wedding. The favor would involve her asking him to ask for Natasha’s help, but it still technically counted as a favor from him, right? 

She slid into her car behind the wheel, shaking her head a little. No, this was only her second week of student teaching. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by this; technically, she was still in school. Literally and figuratively.


	62. Black Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally catches the art thief.

**January 24th, 2024 - Somewhere in Middle Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 11:23 AM**

Peter very much appreciated the flexibility of his hours at Stark Industries. They gave him the liberty to pick and choose when he was doing that job, and when he could do his other job. This particular morning, he’d been given an alert of yet another break-in, the first since the Met, and so he was hot on the trail of the thief, who, oddly enough, did not seem to by trying too hard to hide from him, this time. It was the closest he’d come to figuring out something new, and it seemed like this would be _ it. _

After months… he might finally catch his perp, and all thanks to a tracker that these particular art owners had installed in their paintings that had been stolen. Absolutely wild. And kind of frustrating. But he could focus on that later, when the thief was behind bars and stolen artwork had been returned. 

He eventually found himself in an old subway tunnel. The graffiti that the thief liked to leave behind in their wake littered the walls. Peter could only assume their hideout had to be close by. According to the tracker, which pinged on his HUD, he was right on top of the paintings that had been stolen early that morning. 

“Karen?” he queried, after not finding anything of his own on first inspection of the immediate area. 

“The wall on your right is hollowed out,” Karen said. His HUD flashed yellow on the area that she meant. “There must be a way in.”

“Right,” Peter said, considering the wall. Rather than waste his time looking for a switch or lever, he backed up to the opposite side of the tunnel as far as he could go. He then leveraged himself up against it, and aimed a web at the ceiling of the tunnel. Pushing himself off the opposite wall, he smashed through the hollowed section on the other side through sheer momentum. 

Peter dropped to the ground inside the space, dusting off his hands. “Or you could do that,” Karen said, sounding just the tiniest bit exasperated. 

“I’ve been chasing this guy, or girl, or non-binary _ amigo, _ since October,” Peter said. “I’m done wasting my time.” 

The space behind the wall was filled with objects that had been stolen over the last few months. Art pieces from the studio that had first been targeted, all the way to an expensive portrait that had been taken from the most recent penthouse broken into. Peter nodded to himself, and started to ask Karen to dial the police chief, Georgia. 

Before he could speak, his senses twitched, and he jumped out of the way. A foot kicked through the air where the back of his head had been. He whipped around, firing a web as he did so, and landed. He stared at the person he’d attached to the wall, dumbfounded.

Felicia Hardy wiggled beneath the web, dressed in a leather catsuit. The gloves she wore ended in sharp, claw-like points that looked as if they could be used to pick locks. She had a black mask over her eyes, but her blonde hair and blue eyes were easily recognizable to Peter, who’d seen her seemingly every weekend, and sometimes several times a week, since mid-November. Those eyes found his mask, and Felicia offered him an annoyed look. 

“Could you let me down, maybe?” she suggested. 

“Are you kidding?” Peter demanded. “You tried to kick me!” 

“Yeah, but… I didn’t,” Felicia said, “so let me down.”

“What, so you can try to do it again? No,” Peter said. He gestured to the stolen wares. “You want to explain all this?” 

Felicia glanced around. “I stole it?” she said, sounding both exasperated and confused as to why he was asking. “I assumed that was why you were here.”

“Partially,” Peter replied, “but you didn’t exactly try to hide, this time.” 

“I mean, I did have a hidden room in an abandoned subway tunnel,” Felicia said. “You’re the one who swung through the wall.” 

“Your graffiti is all over the place,” Peter told her. “I’m pretty familiar with it, by now, considering you’ve been leaving it _ everywhere _since Halloween.” He lifted an eyebrow. “That was you, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s been me the whole time,” Felicia said without looking at him. She was wriggling again. “Listen, I really don’t feel like having this conversation while trapped up here.”

“And I don’t feel like letting you down,” Peter responded without affliction. “In fact, I should leave you here until the police come. You can watch them confiscate all these stolen goods so that they can be returned to their owners.”

Felicia sighed. “Come on, Spider,” she said, sweetly. “You don’t mean that. After all… I am your best friend’s girlfriend.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “You -”

“What, you thought I was dating Ned because I like him?” Felicia asked, rolling her eyes. “He’s sweet enough, but he’s not exactly my type. I needed to get close to you, see if you could help me.”

_ Okay, what the fuck. _

“H-help you with what?” Peter asked, keeping his voice level. 

“I think the both of us are familiar with a man named Richard Fisk?” Felicia said. Immediately, Peter’s fists clenched, out of sheer muscle memory of the hatred he felt for the guy. Felicia smiled. “Thought so. Turns out, our boy Richie is in possession of a very dangerous weapon, one that could probably take out half of Manhattan, if used properly. I plan on stealing it, but… I don’t exactly have a way to dispose of the thing, which is where you and your powerful Avenger buddies come in.”

Peter stared. “How do you know about this weapon?” he asked, and Felicia rolled her eyes. 

“The art dealer that I stole from, that first time? He’s a weapon curator, too, one that _ Wilson _ Fisk paid a very pretty salary on a monthly basis to keep him up to date on the latest and greatest. I heard him talking about it, when I was casing his studio. Apparently, this is his first dealing with Fisk the Younger, since you helped get his daddy thrown in jail.”

Peter made a mental note to ask Ned to do research on the art dealer. For now, he studied Felicia closely. “Does Fisk plan on _ using _ this weapon?” he asked. 

“No idea,” Felicia replied, “but wouldn’t it be smart to get it away from him before we _ do _ know?” 

Peter continued to gaze at her. “Why should I trust you?” he finally asked. 

Felicia stared back, evenly. “Because I’ve known who you really are for a while, and I haven’t told anyone,” she said. “Which is more than can be said of your best friends, isn’t it?” 

Peter hesitated a moment, before cursing under his breath and firing the web dissolver at the web holding her to the wall. It disappeared within seconds, and Felicia landed neatly on all fours, before pushing herself up right. She reached up to adjust her mask. 

“Thanks, Spider,” she said, looking over at him again. “I appreciate it when a man makes the right choice without having to ask a million useless questions. I _ hate _ explaining things to them.”

“You’ll have plenty to explain, later,” Peter told her. “What’s your plan to get the weapon from Fisk?” 

Felicia sighed, reaching up to tighten the ponytail that she wore her hair up in. “Originally,” she said, “before I found out you might be useful, I was just going to go in and get it. But now that I have your willing assistance, we might need to come up with a real plan.”

Peter stammered for a moment, flabbergasted. “You didn’t have an actual plan,” he said. 

“I don’t need one,” Felicia said, tossing her head. “I break in, I take the things I want, and I get out. It’s basic thievery, not a movie in the _ Ocean’s _ franchise."

Peter gestured around the room. “You did not steal all of this through _ basic thievery,” _ he said. “Alarm systems? Security guards? You snuck into the _ Met, _ left _ traps _ everywhere, even."

“Yeah, bad blind spots on those cameras,” Felicia said idly. “You’re right about the security guards, though, they always pose a bit of a problem for me. But with you around, I don’t think I’ll need to worry about them so much.”

“So, wait a second,” Peter said, putting up his hands. “The plan, if you can even call it a plan, is for you to sneak into wherever this weapon is, while I take out all the guys that might cause you problems?” 

Felicia nodded. “Yeah, sounds good to me. Let’s go.”

“Hold _ on,” _ Peter said, annoyed, and Felicia let out a frustrated sigh, whipping around to face him again. 

_ “What?” _ she demanded. 

“How do we even know where this thing is? I’m not going to go looking all around New York for something that might not even be in Fisk’s possession!” 

“Christ, you’re a piece of work,” Felicia said after staring at him for a moment, and Peter huffed, exasperated. 

“Me?” 

Felicia crossed her arms. “Listen,” she began. “I’ve been keeping an eye on this thing since October. You know that Fisk has warehouses all over the city, places where his less desirable merchandise exchanges hands, right?” Peter conceded to this with a single nod. “Right, so I’ve been watching those warehouses for anything big, anything out of the ordinary. Two days ago, at a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen, there was a change in pattern. Increase in security, big truck bringing the delivery, all of it.” She paused, and then shrugged. “Plus I might have a contact on the inside who says that the weapon’s there.”

“A _ trustworthy _ contact?” Peter queried. 

“Eh,” Felicia replied with a flippant shrug of her shoulders. 

“Oh my God,” Peter sighed. He studied the ground for a moment, hands on his waist. This was absolutely insane. He wasn’t actually considering going along with this, was he? There was _ no plan. _

“No,” he said, looking up again.

“Sorry, _ no?” _ Felicia asked. She sounded stunned, which Peter was pleased to note. “You’ve been trying to put the Fisk duo on the Raft for years, and now I’m giving you the chance to do that on a silver platter and you say _ no?” _

“Yeah, I have to,” Peter said, “because this is the worst plan in the world.” Felicia scoffed. “I’m serious, Felicia. I work closely with the NYPD. If this were to go badly, and I was responsible for us losing anything we might be able to get on Fisk, I’d lose that connection. I can’t afford that.”

“So, what, you’re suggesting we take this to the police?” Felicia demanded. “In case you forgot, I’ve spent the last four months evading them!” 

“That’s why you don’t necessarily need to be involved,” Peter told her. She frowned slightly, but the tense set to her shoulders faded a bit. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can go to the chief, tell her that I was doing research on the art dealer, and let her know that I found out he works for Fisk,” Peter explained. “If we can get some solid evidence that indicates Richard is laundering illegal weapons, then we can bring him in, too.” 

“Getting evidence could take forever,” Felicia said. “That’ll give him time to sell this big weapon to the highest bidder, and they could use it to do God knows what.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Peter, but I have to take him down now, before he has the chance. I can’t… I won’t let this slip through my fingers, and if you won’t help me, I’ll just deal with it myself.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder again. “Fortunately, I’m sort of used to that.”

Peter watched her duck out of the hidden space in the subway tunnel without moving. He knew that he couldn’t let her go at this alone, let alone convince her to not do it at all. It seemed that his only choice was to join her, if he didn’t want things going horribly wrong in one way or another. 

He sighed to himself, and exited the hidden space as well. Thankfully, she hadn’t gotten far. “Felicia!” he called, jogging after her. 

She paused, and glanced at him as he joined her. Peter stopped next to her. “If we’re going to do this,” he said, “we’re going to do it _ smart.” _

She smiled thinly. “Spider,” she began, “everything I do is _ smart.” _ With that, she pulled out what looked like a grappling hook of sorts, and fired it at a building. She then winked, pushed the button, and went zipping away. Peter exhaled, and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure this wasn't a surprise to anyone.


	63. Making Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some miscommunication along the way.

**January 24th, 2024 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 3:30 PM**

Somehow, Peter actually managed to convince Felicia to wait until night fell before they headed to the warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen that she’d mentioned. As they sat in the front room of the apartment, he considered everything Felicia had told him. 

Fisk, apparently, had a very deadly weapon in his possession. He’d retrieved it through what were no doubt illegal means, if he’d gone through a weapon curator. Peter had done a little research on the guy himself, and hadn’t been able to find much, meaning he preferred privacy. Peter didn’t know what kind of art dealer didn’t like having their name all over the place, in case buyers came looking, so needless to say, he was suspicious. 

The weapon, if Felicia’s guess and contact were correct, was still in the warehouse that it had been delivered to, two nights prior. If it was really there, there would no doubt be thugs all over the place to guard the weapon, but nothing obvious, so as not to attract unwanted attention. This meant they’d probably be able to get inside the warehouse easily enough, but would have to be careful going through it to locate the weapon. 

The problem was that Peter had absolutely no idea what the inside of this warehouse would look like. He didn’t know if it would be a location suited to the type of sneaking they hoped to accomplish, or if it was appropriate for the battleground that it might become, if they were discovered. On top of that, there was no way of knowing if they’d be able to find the weapon among all the merchandise that Fisk probably stored there. 

“Do you ever relax?” Felicia asked idly from where she lay on the couch, tossing a stress ball into the air with one hand, and catching it with the other. 

Peter paused in his pacing, and turned towards her. “I’m sorry,” he said, dryly, “but I’m just trying to figure out how we’re going to infiltrate a warehouse to find a weapon that we don’t know is actually there.” 

“It’s definitely there,” Felicia said. “I would know if it had been moved, which means that no one’s bought it. Yet.” She sat up. “Which is why we need to get in there tonight, before a deal can be made, and get it out of there.”

“But what _ is _ it?” Peter asked. “A bomb? Some type of automaton that fires a minigun?” 

Felicia studied him for a moment. “You just worry about the security issues we’ll probably run into,” she said at last, and threw the ball towards him. Peter caught it very easily. “Let me deal with the weapon. I am the thief in this duo, after all.”

“Okay, we are absolutely not a duo,” Peter said, immediately. “You kind of coerced me into this.”

“I told you I’d do it alone.”

“And you know that I can’t let you, now that I know about it!” 

They stared at one another, neither blinking or turning away. After a moment, Felicia smirked, and stood up. She walked over to him; Peter had noticed before that she was tall, and now, this close, he saw that she was almost his height, maybe an inch shorter. She reached up, and plucked some lint off of the sleeve of his shirt. 

“There’s a reason I decided to come to you with this,” she murmured, flicking the lint away. She turned her gaze back to his. “But in order for this to work, to get that weapon away from Fisk, you’re going to need to trust me.” 

“How can I, when you’ve spent the last four months robbing people and evading arrest?” Peter asked her. “You’re a criminal, Felicia.” 

“Yeah, but right now? I’m a criminal that is dead set on helping you stop an even bigger one,” she told him. “Your only chance of doing this right, and right away, is with me.” 

Peter heard a key in the front door, and he quickly looked in that direction, frantically coming up with an explanation as to what he was doing alone in the apartment with Felicia. He staggered backwards from her a few steps, but a few seconds too late. 

It was Cheri who pushed open the door, carrying a large stack of papers. She kicked the door shut with her heel, and turned. Her eyes narrowed almost as soon as she took in the front room, took in how close he still stood to Felicia, who was casually turning back towards the couch. 

“Hey,” Peter began, hurrying forward and taking the papers from Cheri. He placed a kiss on her cheek. “Good day?” 

“Sure,” she said, watching him, and then Felicia, who merely smiled at her, and then sank back down onto the couch. Cheri immediately turned back to Peter, and dragged him into the kitchen. “What the _ fuck _ are you doing here with her?” she demanded. 

“I can explain everything,” Peter assured, putting the papers down on the counter and holding up his hands. “I swear. I just… can’t do it right now.” The fire in Cheri’s eyes did not disappear, and he reached out, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I promise, Cheri, it’s… it’s a big deal, okay? And I’ll tell you everything later.”

Cheri glared at him for a very long moment. “Peter,” she began, and he winced at the use of his full name. “You asked me to tell you whenever I was worried about something having to do with myself, or our relationship. And right about now, I am _ very _ fucking worried about something having to do with our relationship, and she is laying on the couch in the next room. What the _ hell _ is she doing here, alone, with you?” 

Peter squeezed her shoulders impulsively, making her cringe in pain, and he very quickly backed away, holding his hands up again. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly, gaping. “That was - shit, I just… I’m kind of in a situation, here, and I _ really _ want to be able to tell you about it, but I _ can’t.” _

Cheri reached up and rubbed her shoulder, gazing at him. Peter was horrified to see that there were tears in her eyes. “I wish I could understand,” she whispered, “but I… no. Not… not when it comes to this, to her. We’re supposed to be a_ team, _but I guess you don’t feel that way, huh?” She picked up the papers off the counter and hurried out of the kitchen. Peter watched her disappear down the hall, heard the door of their bedroom close, and then lock. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, and hurried after her. He placed his hand on the doorknob, his forehead against the door itself. “Cheri? Cher, please, open the door. I’m so sorry.” There was no response from the other side of the door, and when he focused his hearing on the inside of the room, the only sound was Cheri’s soft crying. 

Peter closed his eyes, pressed his fist very lightly to the door, and then he backed away from it. He returned to the front room, found Felicia playing with the stress ball again. 

“You should really learn to trust your girlfriend,” she said without looking at him. “Or… maybe she needs to learn to trust you.” 

“Stop,” Peter said. “Just… just stop. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Or maybe _ he _ had no idea what he was _ doing. _

“Whatever, dude,” Felicia said, casually. “It’s your relationship.”

_ Yeah, my relationship, _ Peter thought to himself, hanging his head. _ It’s a thing I’m super good at, apparently. _

**4:25 PM**

Cheri finished grading the last of the music theory kids’ arrangements, and set it on top of the stack on the desk. She then leaned forward until her forehead rested on the desktop, inhaling slowly. She hadn’t heard anything from the front room since Peter had walked away from the door about an hour prior, and she didn’t know if she was relieved that he was leaving her alone, or if she should be even more upset by the fact. Hadn’t it been him who’d said that they needed to resolve issues together, even if that issue only belonged to one or the other of them? What had happened to that, to the two of them being a team? 

To their pinkie promise? 

She squeezed her eyes shut as more tears threatened to flow from them. Realistically, she knew that nothing had happened. Peter had said that it was important, whatever _ it _ was, and obviously Felicia had something to do with it. He wouldn’t spend time with her willingly. Cheri _ knew _ that. 

But the fact that Peter couldn’t tell her about it hurt. If he wanted to be able to help her with her issues, then it made sense that she should be able to help him with his. Obviously, however, Peter did not feel the same way, or, at least, he didn’t trust her enough with whatever this issue was, didn’t trust that she’d be able to help him. 

And that hurt most of all. 

Noise finally reached her from elsewhere in the apartment: the sound of the front door opening. Both Harry and Ned’s voices came with it, Ned sounding surprised but pleased that Felicia was already there, and Harry sounding dry and suspicious. It didn’t take long for him to come down the hall, pause outside her and Peter’s bedroom, and knock, very gently. 

“Cheri? You in there?” 

She stood up from the desk and walked to the door, pulling it open just a little. Harry tilted his head towards the front room. “What’s up with that?” he asked, and she could only shake her head in response. He frowned, then gestured across the hall towards his own room. “Come on.” 

Cheri followed him into it, and Harry closed the door behind her, leaning back against it, arms crossed. “How long has she been here?” he asked her. 

“I don’t know,” Cheri replied quietly, sinking down into his desk chair. “She was here when I got home, though. Peter said that they’re dealing with something, but he wouldn’t tell me what that something is, and I just - I _ can’t, _ Harry.” 

His expression softened into something a little more sympathetic. “Do you want me to punch him for you?” he asked, helpfully, and Cheri snorted out something that might have been a laugh, at any other time. 

“You know that I’m more than capable of punching him myself,” she said, “but I don’t think he deserves to be punched.” She turned her eyes towards the ceiling, swiveling back and forth in the chair. “I just wish I could sit him down and make him talk to me. We’re supposed to be a team, but if he can’t… if he doesn’t feel like he can tell me certain things, then maybe that isn’t completely true.”

“Do you think this has something to do with his second job?” Harry asked, and Cheri nodded. 

“What else?” 

“Well… in that case, maybe Peter doesn’t want to tell you because he’s afraid,” Harry said. Cheri lowered her gaze back to him, and he shrugged. “I mean, I know that if I was a superhero, and I was involved in dangerous shit, I wouldn’t want my girlfriend knowing and worrying.”

“Okay, but the issue with _ that _ is that we already dealt with it, when it came to the whole mess involving you,” Cheri responded. Harry shrank backwards a bit, and she shook her head. “It’s true. Everything reached its climax because he _ wouldn’t _ tell me what he was up to, and when he went missing after your father stole his suit, it was because I had to deal with the fact he wasn’t telling me anything that we even knew something bad had happened to him.

“I’ve told him more than once that I’m not afraid of knowing what he does as Spider-Man, and he shouldn’t be afraid to tell me things,” she went on. “I want to be able to help him with those things, if I can, and in a lot of scenarios, I probably could, considering my SHIELD training and everything, and my connections.” She rubbed at her temple. “But if he’s _ afraid, _ because he thinks telling me things will come back and hurt me, somehow, then I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

Harry gazed at her for a moment longer, before his expression set, as did his shoulders. He pulled open the door of his bedroom again, and started to head towards the front room. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Cheri asked, standing up, horrified. 

Harry paused, and looked back at her. “I’ve been trying to think of the best way to make up for what I did, and it seems like helping the two of you fix this is probably a good start.” He tilted his head. “Peter can’t keep it from all of us; I bet he’s already told Ned.”

Cheri exhaled, shoulders falling. “Ned _ is _ his Guy in the Chair,” she conceded. 

**4:30 PM**

“And that’s… sort of everything,” Peter concluded, watching Ned’s face for an indication of how he was handling it all. 

His friend was currently frowning, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was more a look of deep thought rather than some sort of upset emotion. After a moment, he leaned back, and glanced sideways at Felicia, who’d sat quietly during Peter’s explanation. 

“So… you don’t actually like me, huh?” Ned asked, quietly, and Peter leaned back, turning away from them. He spotted Harry standing in the hall. He gestured for Peter to follow him, and after a moment, he did so. 

Harry nodded towards his bedroom, pausing outside it. “What?” Peter asked. 

“You and Cheri are going to talk,” Harry responded, “and after that, we’re all going to deal with whatever it is you’re dealing with.” 

Peter shook his head. “Harry, no,” he said. “It’s all super dangerous. I only told Ned because Felicia’s involved, and -”

“So, Ned, Felicia’s boyfriend, gets to know, but _ your _ girlfriend doesn’t?” Harry responded, crossing his arms and tilting his head. Peter wanted to retort, but found almost at once that there was nothing to retort with. Harry was… completely correct. 

“To be fair,” Peter finally said, weakly, “Felicia’s not really dating Ned because she likes him.”

“I don’t need you to explain it to me,” Harry told him. He cocked his head towards his bedroom. “But someone else does.”

Peter let out a breath, and stepped into the bedroom. Cheri sat in Harry’s desk chair, gazing down at the floor. She glanced up at his entrance, and frowned, looking away again. 

“Cher,” Peter began, walking forward. He crouched down in front of the desk chair, resting his hands on her knees. “I’m so sorry -”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Cheri murmured. “I want you to tell me why it is that I’m supposed to trust you with things, when you can’t trust me.” She met his gaze. “I want us to be a team, Pete. I thought that was what you wanted, too.”

“It is,” he said at once. “And I do trust you. It’s just… when it comes to the Spider-Man stuff, I don’t want to involve you, because of how dangerous it all is.” 

“I’m a big girl, Peter, I can handle myself,” Cheri said. “I literally have a certification that is equivalent to that of a government agent’s that basically says I can handle myself. I’m not helpless.” 

“No,” Peter admitted after a moment, voice lowered, “you’re not.” He closed his eyes, and then leaned forward, placing his forehead against her knees instead. “You’re probably just as capable as I am to do some of the things I do on a daily basis, even, but it… that shouldn’t have to be your job.”

“And I’m not saying it has to be,” Cheri said. He felt her pass her fingers through his hair. “I’m just… I’m asking you to let me be involved, tell me when you’re dealing with something, because I might be able to help.” 

“You shouldn’t have to help.”

“But I want to,” Cheri told him. She placed her finger beneath his chin, lifting his head up until he was looking at her. She glanced between his eyes, her own soft. “When you keep things like this from me, it makes me think that you don’t trust me, or something.”

“I trust you just as much as anyone else. More, even.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to feel that way, when you tell me that you can’t explain something, even though you know that your not telling me what’s going on is directly affecting me.” She cradled his jaw. “Pete, I need you to realize that being in a relationship means that we have to be able to trust one another with everything, even the hard stuff that normal couples don’t have to deal with, like the fact that one of them is a superhero. You don’t need to keep things from me because you’re worried I’ll be put in danger or whatever. I’ll take the risk, if it means I can help you.”

Peter stared at her for a long moment. Everything she was saying made complete sense, however sick it made him to think about telling her things that he was used to keeping to himself, in order to keep the people around him safe. But he knew that Cheri was right when she said that she could handle any danger that came her way because she knew certain things. He just hated imagining such a circumstance, and knowing he’d been the one to put her in that circumstance.

Cheri must have seen this on his face. She moved her hand around to the back of his neck, and tugged him upwards until she could kiss him, deeply. Peter exhaled through his nose, leaning into the kiss. After a moment, Cheri pulled back a little, and Peter rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. 

“I love you,” Cheri whispered. “I love you with… everything I’m capable of loving you with, and then some, and if you’d rather not involve me, I know it’s because you want to keep me safe.” She squeezed the back of his neck. “But I don’t need you to do that. I’d rather know what’s going on with you, because maybe then I can help keep _ you _ safe.”

“Cheri -”

“You’re already responsible for the city,” she went on. “Let me be responsible for myself.”

Peter inhaled. “No,” he said, quietly, and Cheri blinked, her hand slipping off of his neck. Peter quickly grabbed it in his own, and kissed it. “No, I - I love _ you, _ and when it comes down to it, I’m always going to protect you.” 

Cheri leaned back in the desk chair, clearly beat. “So nothing changes,” she concluded. 

He shook his head. “That isn’t what I’m saying.” He smiled a little. “You are literally the most amazing person I’ve ever known. I know just how tough you are. And I… I’d be glad to have your help, whenever I need it, which is probably more often than I’ll admit.” He ran his thumb across her knuckles. “But that won’t stop me from wanting to protect you, if any danger comes from you knowing things, even if you can handle it on your own. We’re in a relationship; you shouldn’t have to.”

Cheri sighed. “This is that selflessness that I love and hate at the exact same time, the exact same amount,” she said, and Peter nodded. The corner of her mouth lifted in a tiny smile. “As long as you know you don’t need to keep things from me, I think we can say that we’re okay.” 

“Then we’re okay,” Peter concluded, and he kissed her again. 

“All right,” Cheri said, blinking at him when he drew back. “What’s going on?” 

So Peter told her everything. Cheri listened, a crease between her brows as she processed it all. When he was finished, ending with the explanation of the plan to infiltrate the Fisk warehouse, she tilted her head, studying him. Peter waited for her to say something, settling back on his heels. 

“What’re you thinking?” he finally asked. 

“That you could use my help,” she responded. She stood and paced across the room. “I think… yeah. We need a distraction, rather than stealth.” 

“What?” Peter asked, standing up. 

“Think about it,” Cheri said. She was smiling, now, as the plan came together in her head. “If we knew what we were going into, I’d definitely say stealth was the best choice. Because we don’t know what the inside of the warehouse looks like, though, it’d be smarter of us to get any security out of the building entirely, to give Felicia a better chance to find the weapon and get it out of there.” 

She paused for a moment, and then nodded to herself. “Yes, that’s… that’s good.” She turned and exited the bedroom, then, leaving Peter to stare at the place she’d been, confused. He shook his head, and hurried after her, passing by a just-as-confused Harry. 

“The hell’s going on?” he asked, following Peter down the hall. 

“Cheri apparently has a new plan in mind for us,” Peter said over his shoulder. He paused at the end of the hall, Harry stepping up beside him. Cheri had climbed onto the coffee table. 

“Are you involved, now?” Felicia asked her, sounding just the tiniest bit bored. 

“Yeah, I’m involving myself,” Cheri responded. “No offense, Pete, but your plan would not work out.”

“See, that’s what I was trying to tell him,” Felicia put in, sitting up. 

“You literally didn’t say that once,” Peter told her, exasperated. 

“In order to get you into the warehouse, and to give you time to find the weapon,” Cheri said, drawing both of their attentions back to her, “there’s going to need to be a distraction, something big enough that’ll draw all of their security dudes to the outside of the warehouse. That way, Felicia will have free range of the building without needing to worry about being spotted.”

“Unless there’s security cameras,” Harry said.

“That won’t be a problem, if I can get into the system,” Ned replied, already opening his laptop. 

“Which I can probably help with, if I can get to a computer within the building somewhere,” Felicia added. 

“Even one of the cameras would work,” Ned told her, typing away at his laptop. “If I can get routed into one of them, I can get in to all of them.”

“But what kind of distraction are you thinking of?” Peter asked, looking at Cheri, who was walking back and forth across the coffee table. “And why are you standing up there?” 

“I wanted to be tall,” Cheri said, “and what distraction do they need other than Spider-Man?” 

“You want me to take on all those guys?” 

“You want to tell me you don’t think you can handle it?” Cheri retorted, crossing her arms. 

“I mean, maybe for a few minutes,” Peter said, “but I -” 

“I only need ten,” Felicia said, cutting him off. Everyone turned to her.

“You think so?” Ned asked, blinking. 

She nodded. “It wouldn’t make sense for them to keep something so important out in the open,” she said. “I’ll be looking for a secure case of some kind, probably in a separate, locked room. I just need enough time to find the room, get in there, get the case, and get out.” 

“And you think ten minutes is enough?” Peter clarified. 

“It will be,” Felicia said. 

Silence descended in the room, until Harry snorted. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “What should my job be?” 

“You can… stay here, and bring Ned snacks,” Cheri said. 

“Check,” Harry agreed, pointing at her. 

“Wait, wait, you’re going to come with us?” Peter questioned, frowning up at her. 

“Yeah,” Cheri answered, like it was a no-brainer. “Obviously. I’ll be nearby in case you need my help with the bad guys.”

“No,” Peter said at once. “Absolutely not.”

“Peter, I’m trained.”

“Sure, but when’s the last time you put that training to use in an actual fight?” he asked, crossing his own arms. 

Cheri sighed. It was pointless to remind him of all the time she’d spent in the gym at the Compound over the holidays. “You might not even need me,” she pointed out. “I’ll just be there in case you do.”

They stared one another down for a moment. “Unless I am on the ground, and not showing any signs of getting up, you do _ not _ involve yourself in the fight,” Peter finally said, unable to withstand her gaze. 

“Or…” They all immediately looked at Harry, who straightened up a little, clearly surprised that he’d gotten their attention so easily. “Maybe, if Ned could get into their cameras, we could spend some time studying the layout of the warehouse? That would cut down the time you needed inside, right, Felicia?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, and Harry shrugged. 

“So, maybe that’s the better shot, here,” he said. 

“Well, the issue with that is we have no clue how much longer the weapon is going to be in the warehouse,” Peter said. “It could be there for another week, or they could be getting ready to sell it off to the highest bidder tonight. If we spend time getting into the cameras, and then give Felicia time to figure out where she needs to go once she’s inside… we might lose our window of opportunity, which as far as we know, is only right now.”

Cheri sank down into a crouch, frowning a little. “Then maybe we need to get them to give us a bigger window,” she suggested, quietly. 

“Like… pretend to be interested in buying the weapon?” Ned asked, and she nodded, glancing up again. 

“If we could keep them in a holding pattern, long enough for Felicia to figure out where in the building she needs to go, we could go for it right after. That way you won’t have to fight them off for as long, Pete, and Felicia will have a better idea of what she’s walking into.” Cheri looked at Ned. “Ned, if we can get in touch with Fisk, could you access his network through the call?” 

“Oh, yeah, easy,” Ned responded, “but… what if the ruse doesn’t go well?” 

“I think it’ll go fine,” Cheri said, only she was speaking with a thick Russian accent that Peter could only imagine she’d learned from some performer. She didn’t sound like herself at all. She smiled, and went back to using her normal voice. “Was that convincing enough?” 

“I’m more concerned about whether or not you’ll be able to keep them on the phone long enough for Felicia to learn where she needs to go,” Harry admitted. 

“Maybe she doesn’t even need that long with the footage,” Peter said, finally speaking up. “Ned could patch himself in during the call, and then he could be Felicia’s eyes on her way through the building.” 

“That still puts you in a lot of danger, though,” Cheri said, her brows furrowed. 

“Less than the original plan,” Peter said with a shrug. “No offense, babe.” 

“No, you’re right,” she sighed. She actually sat down on the edge of the coffee table, now, and looked at Ned. “How long do you need to get into the cameras while I’m on the phone?” 

Ned lifted his shoulders. “Depends on firewalls and other obstacles, but I could probably get in in five minutes? Less, if we’re lucky.” 

Cheri turned to Felicia, who’d been quietly sitting on the other end of the couch, listening as they discussed. “What do you think?” 

Felicia glanced around at all of them, before she shrugged her shoulders and said, “I was ready to go in and get the damn thing on my own, but having a crew might be a fun first.” 

Cheri actually smiled at that, much to Peter’s surprise, and she looked at him. “Well, Spider-Man?” she queried. “What do _ you _think?” 

Peter inhaled, and managed a smile of his own. “I think we better get this thing started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I taught for the first time today in a history classroom. Did it go well? Couldn't tell ya, since I'm writing this before it happened! I'll let you know next week, though.


	64. A Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri puts her acting skills to use, while Ned does what he's best at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the heist hits.

**January 24th, 2024 - Somewhere in Lower Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 7:14 PM**

They’d needed to get Cheri a burner phone, and both Ned and Peter had suggested it was safer for her to call Fisk’s weapons curator from someplace other than the apartment. After giving Ned access to the phone via his laptop, Cheri and Harry had driven fifteen blocks away from the apartment, and parked in a lot beneath a train overpass. Peter was on the phone with them via Cheri’s actual cell.

“Okay,” he said once they were in position. “Ned’s ready to go. You just gotta keep him on the line until Ned gets into the cameras.”

“Yes, Pete, I know that,” Cheri said, patiently. Her hands were steady around the burner phone, and she glanced sideways at Harry, who actually looked pretty concerned. “I can do this.”

“I know,” Peter said after a moment, from her phone. He exhaled. “Okay. Ready?” 

Cheri flipped the burner open, typed in the number they’d retrieved, and prepared to hit the green CALL button. “Ready,” she said. 

“Three, two, one… dial,” Peter said, and Cheri hit the button, lifting the phone to her ear. 

**71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 7:15 PM**

Peter leaned over the back of the couch, watching Ned’s laptop screen as his friend infiltrated the Fisk network. The codes began to blur together in front of his eyes, and paired with the sound of Cheri speaking to Fisk’s weapon curator in her thick Russian accent, it was enough to give him cause to want to dart to his room and hide under his bed until this was all over. His senses hated _ everything _ that was going on. 

“Hey, Spider, you good?” Somehow, Felicia’s question made it through the din of the sights, the smells, the sounds that he was drowning under, and he shook his head. It was all so _ loud - _

A dark film settled over his eyes, dimming the sights. The noises were muffled, barely, but enough to let him concentrate again. He could no longer smell the coffee that was growing rank in the pot in the kitchen, or the remainder of the dinner that someone hadn’t finished in the garbage. 

He opened his eyes, which he hadn’t realized he’d squeezed shut. Something was draped over his head. He no longer held his phone in his hand. Instead of wondering what had happened, he merely gripped the edges of the blinds someone had given him (it was a blanket, it seemed), and pulled it closer around his head, closing his eyes again. He needed to get himself back under control. 

Felicia frowned at Peter from where she stood, his phone in her hand, her other hand still positioned in the way it had been when she’d dropped the blanket over his head. She briefly wondered how often he got like that, allowed it all to get to him, and assumed it couldn’t have been a lot, considering how quickly he’d panicked, just then. 

“I got it,” Ned said. “I’m in.” 

“Great,” Felicia said, relieved. She glanced at Peter once more, and then she hopped back over the couch and sat down, holding Peter’s phone up between them. “Good job, Cheri.”

**Somewhere in Lower Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 7:18 PM**

Cheri snapped the burner phone closed, and handed it off to Harry, who very quickly placed it in a cloth bag. He opened the door of the car, set the bag on the ground, and stomped on it with all his might. He peeked into the bag, and then offered Cheri a thumb’s up. 

She relaxed back into the driver’s seat as he pulled the door closed again, breathing a little rapidly himself. 

“I can’t believe that worked,” he managed. 

“Me either,” Cheri murmured. 

Harry’s eyes snapped over to her, stunned. “Are you _ joking? _ This whole plan was reliant on you believing it would work!” 

“I know, and I pretended to believe so that everyone would feel better!” Cheri returned, sharply. “I’m only _ human, _ Harry, of course I was thinking of the worst!” 

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Felicia said dryly from her cell phone. 

“Where’s Peter? Is he okay?” Cheri asked, worried. 

“I think - well, I don’t really know what happened,” Felicia admitted. “Ned?” 

“I’m pretty sure his senses overheated, or whatever happens to him,” Ned said. Cheri could hear him typing. “He just needs to reset.”

“What did you learn from the dude?” Felicia asked. 

“Uh… there’s a bit of a bidding war going on surrounding the weapon,” Cheri said, recalling the information she’d learned from her brief phone call to the weapons curator. “Sounds like they’re trying to hike up the price as high as they can. Guy said it was up to 1.3 million.”

“Jesus,” Felicia muttered, and when Cheri glanced at Harry, she could see that the color had faded from his face. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” she agreed. “We need to get it away from them.”

“We will,” Felicia said after a moment. “We’re in the cameras now; once we have a good sense of where I’m most likely going to need to go, Peter and I will head to the warehouse.”

“Okay,” Cheri responded. “Uh… don’t let Peter know that I’ll meet you guys there.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Felicia queried, and Cheri closed her eyes. “I mean, it seems like he’s struggling with this whole idea of you being directly involved in the dangerous stuff, which I find nauseatingly adorable.”

“Thanks,” Cheri mumbled, opening her eyes again. “But I need to be there.” 

“If you’re sure,” Felicia said. “Gotta go; need to study.” 

“Right. I’ll let you do your thing,” Cheri said, and she hung up the call, before looking over at Harry again. “How quickly do you think we can get to Brooklyn and back?”

“I don’t know, maybe in thirty minutes?” Harry said, frowning a little. “Why, what’s in Brooklyn?” 

Cheri put the car in gear and pulled out from under the overpass. “Something I knew I should’ve brought with me, when I moved in with Peter,” she replied, heading for the Brooklyn Bridge. 


	65. Final Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 71 2nd Ave. makes some last plans, while Cheri and Harry pick up some necessary items.

**January 24th, 2024 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 7:32 PM**

“I think it’s pretty clear,” Ned said, and he pointed at the screen of his laptop. “You can get in through this vent, follow it, and pop out in the same corridor.” 

Felicia nodded. “Yeah. And you’ll be in my ear, right?” 

“Of course,” Ned responded. “It’s sort of a thing I’m pretty good at.”

“Still not actually interested in you, bud,” Felicia reminded him. 

“Right, sorry.” Ned gazed at the screen for a moment as she stood, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “Uh… so, are you interested in Peter?” 

“What? No,” Felicia answered with a roll of her eyes. “I’m gay, dude.”

“Oh!” Ned said, blinking. “Oh, that’s - that’s awesome. Me too. I mean. Kind of. Half.” He made a face at himself in the reflection on his laptop screen. “I mean, I’m -”

“I get it,” Felicia interrupted, finishing with her hair. She looked at him, and Ned was kind of surprised to see that she was smiling. “I’m sorry I had to… y’know. Do that to you.”

“Oh, pfft, don’t even worry about it,” Ned said, waving his hand. “I’m… I kind of always had a feeling.”

Felicia hummed. “Yeah, I wasn’t so good at pretending, was I?” she asked. 

“I mean, not really,” Ned admitted with a smile of his own. “You could’ve just told us, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m starting to realize that,” Felicia agreed with a sigh. 

They both turned when Peter stepped out of the hallway, back in his suit. He glanced between them for a moment, and Ned was glad to see that he was back to his normal coloring. It always freaked him out whenever Peter had one of his senses attacks. This one had been pretty tame, compared to a few others that Ned had been witness to. He was glad that they’d had a blanket nearby to help Peter block it all out, even a little, so that he could get a rein back around everything. 

“You good?” Felicia asked, and Peter nodded. “And that’s not gonna happen while I’m in there, right?”

“No,” Peter answered, and he smiled a little. “I should be okay. It just - sometimes I stop thinking about it, and kind of let it all get to me, which is dangerous. Uh… but I’m all right, now.”

“What sets it off?”

“Overthinking, usually,” Peter said. “Anyway, we good to go?”

“Yeah, we plotted a pretty clear path,” Ned said, waving him over. Peter leaned over the back of the couch while Felicia sat down beside Ned again, and he gestured to the laptop as he showed off the different angles of the Fisk warehouse. 

It looked as any warehouse did. There was a large open room, filled with many different metal shelves that formed aisles of sorts. All of the shelves were stocked with different types of boxes. No doubt all of them contained some type of illegal merchandise. 

“This main room has ten different cameras, all of them watching junction points between the different aisles, plus one on the main door of the warehouse, and two on the loading dock doors, in the back,” Ned said. “We’re not focused on this main room, though. We think the weapon’s being kept down in the basement.” He shifted to a different set of cameras, these ones pointed down a long hall that had four different doors down it. “We know one of these rooms is an office, and the other’s the server room -” Ned tapped through the cameras that showed this. “- but the other two are a mystery. No cameras at all. That’s where Felicia’s heading.”

“Right,” Peter said. “And if it isn’t in either of those rooms?” 

“We’re screwed,” Felicia answered, slipping her mask over her head and down across her eyes. “Let’s do this.”

“I’ve got you both patched into a comm line,” Ned said, “and I’ll be in Felicia’s ear the whole time, keeping her on track.”

Peter nodded in agreement, and he looked at Felicia. “Ready?” he asked. 

“I’ve _ been _ ready,” she answered, and then she slipped out the open window in the front room, disappearing from sight. Peter sighed a little to himself, and pulled on his own mask. 

“Thank God you’re not actually dating her,” he said to Ned, and then he slipped out the window as well, following Felicia and her grappling hook mode of transportation in the direction of Hell’s Kitchen. 

**225 Schermerhorn St., Brooklyn, New York, NY, USA - 7:35 PM**

“Why’re we here?” Harry asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he followed Cheri across the street and into her mother’s apartment building.

“I told you, there’s something I need to pick up,” Cheri answered, nodding to the guy at the desk in the lobby as she hurried past to the stairwell. Harry followed her, feeling pretty at home in the building. He’d spent more time here as a child than at his own home, until he and Cheri had become teenagers, and were trusted to hang out in his father’s penthouse instead. As such, he knew where he was going, even without having Cheri ahead of him, and his shoulders relaxed further when her mother opened the apartment door after they’d stood outside it for a moment. 

Isabel took one look at her daughter before sighing, and pushing the door open further. “Good to see you, Harry,” she said as he walked into the apartment behind Cheri, although she didn’t sound as though she meant it. No doubt she’d heard from Cheri what Harry had done to Peter, the October before. 

“Yeah, you too, ma’am,” he said quietly, watching as Cheri disappeared down the hall towards what used to be her bedroom. “Uh… I don’t really know what we’re doing here.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Isabel said, walking into the kitchen, where a baby blue teapot was heating up on the stove. “What mess has Peter gotten himself into?” 

“I… I guess Richard Fisk has, like, a super powerful weapon that he plans on selling?” Harry began. “And Peter and a girl who was Ned’s girlfriend just to get closer to Peter are going to steal it from him? And Cheri thinks that she needs to be prepared, in case Peter needs her help, I guess? I don’t really know, I was told my job would be to get Ned snacks and stuff while he did his Guy in the Chair routine, but -”

“Mom, did you _ move _ them?” Cheri called from her bedroom, and Isabel sighed to herself. 

“No,” she replied, speaking up to be heard. “They should be where you left them.”

“Well, they’re _ not,” _ Cheri exclaimed. 

_ “Dios mio,” _Isabel muttered to herself, and she pointed to the pot. “If that whistles, will you take it off the burner, please?” 

“Yeah,” Harry answered, and he stepped out of the way as Isabel exited the kitchen and went down the hall as well. Harry listened as mother and daughter had a conversation in Spanish that he thought featured quite a few expletives as Isabel clearly managed to find whatever Cheri had been looking for within the first ten seconds of being in the room. 

_ “Es una superpotencia, lo juro!” _Cheri was saying as they both returned to the front room. Cheri held what looked to Harry like the sort of thing an old-time-y dentist or doctor might carry their tools around in. 

_ “No, simplemente no sabes cómo mirar,” _ her mother said, brushing past Harry to get to her teapot once more. Harry watched as Cheri set down the bag on the counter top, and flipped the flap on it back. His eyes widened when he saw the array of different weaponry that had been inside of it, ranging from knives to some type of black wire attached to two pole looking things on either end. 

“What the -?”

“No cursing under my roof, Harold,” Isabel reminded him. 

Harry snapped his mouth shut. Cheri examined the array for a moment before she selected a couple knives. She slipped these into the boots she wore. The black wire contraption she placed into the back of her jeans. After another moment of consideration, she pulled out two wrist contraptions and slipped them on. Both were adorned with small silver disks; Harry didn't want to think about what those might do. 

“All right,” Cheri said, closing the bag. “Will you put that away for me?” 

“No, clean up after yourself,” Isabel retorted. 

“But _ Máma…” _

“I am _ not _ your maid, Cheryl Maria,” Isabel said sharply. “Put your weapons away where I found them.”

Cheri groaned, but all the same stomped back off towards her bedroom again. “And do not stomp!” Isabel called after her. “You know how the neighbors downstairs can be, _ Cristo.” _ She glanced at Harry as she lifted her teapot when it began to whistle. She turned off the burner it had been sitting on top of. “Your father has asked me if I’ve heard from you.”

“Yeah?” Harry turned away, frowning. “That doesn’t surprise me.” 

“I imagine that you don’t want him knowing how you are?” 

“I don’t want him knowing _ anything _ about me,” Harry replied. “Norman Osborn isn’t part of my life, anymore.”

After a moment, Isabel snorted a little, and turned back to the tea she was making. “A smart choice,” she said. “I never liked the man; I always thought you would do better without him around.”

Cheri returned. “Let’s go, Harry,” she said, walking to the door.

_ “Ay, uno momento!” _Isabel said, sharply. Cheri paused, huffing, and turned to her. 

_ “¿Què?” _ she asked, impatiently. 

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” Isabel said. 

“Yes, Mother, I promise,” Cheri said, rolling her eyes. “Anything else?” 

_ “Llámame, _ when it’s over,” Isabel said, “so that I know you’re all okay.”

_ “Bueno, _ whatever, _ te amo, _ ” Cheri said, and she pulled the door open. “Come _ on, _ Harry.” 

“Right, leaving. Bye, ma’am,” he said, and Cheri shoved him out of the apartment, and back down the hall. 

“Jeez, you’d think I was going to war or something. I don’t even know if I’ll have to fight,” she grumbled as they started for the stairs again. 

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that,” Harry reminded her, quietly. “I mean, you just walked into her apartment and grabbed knives and... and razor disks, and some sort of… choky thing?” Cheri did not respond, and Harry glanced downwards as they reached the main floor, and headed outside again. “I don’t know, just think it’s probably nice to have a parent worry about you.”

Cheri looked over at him, a pained expression on her face. “Shit, Harry, I’m sorry,” she said, softly. “I… I didn’t -”

“Forget it,” he said, pausing next to the passenger side door of her car. “Let’s get back over to Manhattan, so you can drop me off at the apartment.” 

Cheri let out a breath, and unlocked the car, slipping into the driver’s seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realistically, no one aside from Dexter owns a carry-on of weapons, but, y'know, Cheri's abuelo worked for SHIELD, so maybe he had them, and left them to her.   
Much to her mother and abuela's annoyance, obviously, but.


	66. Duo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Felicia begin the plan.

**January 24th, 2024 - 36th and 10th, Hell’s Kitchen, New York, NY, USA - 7:45 PM**

Peter and Felicia studied the warehouse across the street from where they both crouched on the edge of a building. There was a yard of sorts located in front of the main doors of the building. Five different men that Peter could see stalked the yard itself. Two more stood in front of the heavy double doors leading into the building. Karen assured him that there were even more men both around the side of the building, and inside, too. 

“Okay,” he began at last. “I’m going to get their attention. Once I have it, you get in the way you and Ned decided on, and do what you do.”

“Got it,” Felicia agreed. “You sure you can handle all of them?”

“I have to,” Peter said. “We need to keep them from finding out the weapon’s gone. Once you have it, let me know, and I’ll get out of there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Felicia said. “Good luck, Spider-Man.”

“You too, Black Cat,” Peter replied, and watched as she darted away from him, disappearing into the shadows further down the rooftop. He turned back to the warehouse, nodded to himself, and shot a web at one of the light posts positioned over the yard. 

_ “Peter?” _Ned’s voice in his earpiece. 

“Shh, I’m catching flies,” Peter replied, and he knocked the bulb out on the post with a swift kick, before swinging himself back up onto the top of it. He watched as one of the men was sent over to investigate the busted light. Once he was within reach, Peter fired a web. It latched onto the guy, and he quickly smacked him against the metal post of the light, before pulling him up higher and fastening him to the light. 

“Okay, what do you want?” he asked Ned, speaking quietly. 

_ “We should come up with a code word, for when you have all the dudes on you, and Felicia knows she’s clear to go inside,” _Ned said. 

Peter rolled his eyes inside his mask. “Are you serious right now? I’m trying to take out as many of these dudes out front as I can before I bring the whole circus on top of me.”

_ “C’mon, Spider, it’s just a quick word. First one that pops into your head,” _Felicia said. 

He sighed a little. “Okay, okay, uh… _ leche.” _

_ “Works for me,” _Felicia said, sounding amused. 

“I’m gonna finish the first part of my job, now,” Peter said, and he hopped nimbly down onto a high stack of shipping crates that had been discarded in the yard. The two men by the door had yet to move, and three of the dudes in the yard itself had paused to share in conversation together. The fourth one was peeing in a darkened corner. 

Peter felt bad, but headed for him first, since none of the others were paying attention to him. He waited for the guy to finish with his business before tying him up in a web and securing him to a different light. 

“Karen, can you get a better reading on how many are inside?” he asked, returning to the stack of crates and eyeing the group of three. 

“So far, I’ve noted at least ten,” Karen said, “but that’s only in the area that our sensors reach.”

“Right,” Peter said, quietly, and he quickly adjusted his web shooter settings to the web bomb instead. “All right, this is probably going to get pretty messy pretty quick.”

“You can do it, Spider-Man,” Karen assured. 

“I hope so,” he muttered, and then he fired a web bomb towards the group of three. It exploded an instant after hitting the ground, wrapping them all up in web. Peter then swung towards the two guarding the door instead, and took them down just as the first three were breaking free. 

They charged for him, and Peter heard an alarm go up inside the building. He turned away from knocking out the last one that had been in the yard to see the doors flying open, and a herd of Fisk’s men rushing into the yard. More came around the side of the building. All looked ready to kill.

_ “Leche,” _he said, and flipped up into the air to avoid the crowbar one of the men swung at him, clearly an impromptu weapon. No doubt they weren’t used to dealing with intruders in their own space. Still, Peter spotted quite a few guns in the mix of dudes that hurried out of the building to help take him down, and he decided he could maybe use those guns to his advantage. 

“Hey, guys!” he called from where he’d landed on the edge of the wall surrounding the yard. “Do you mind if I borrow your guns?” He shot webs at two of the pistols that men closer to the wall were aiming at him, and with a sharp tug freed the guns from their hands. “Thanks!” 

He pitched the guns at two different men, and flipped down from the wall, knocking out one of the guys he’d taken a gun from with a kick. He spun, and round-housed the other one, then slid nimbly through the legs of a third, punching him in the back of the neck.

Senses twitching every which way, he punched a fourth dude aerially, to get off the ground for a moment while he took him out. Before he hit the ground again, he webbed another gun from a different guy’s hands, and whipped it into another’s face, then landed again and punched the one he’d taken the gun from. 

_ “Felicia’s inside,” _Ned said in his earpiece. 

“Okay, great,” Peter replied, dodging a bullet by diving one direction, and then a second by rolling back up to his feet. “I’m having a nice play date out here, don’t worry about me.” 

Three dudes rushed towards him at once, and Peter quickly deployed another web bomb, tangling all of them up with one another. “Jeez, fellas, you don’t need to hurry, I’ve got all night!” he said, back flipping out of the way. 

“We need more men out in the front yard!” one of the guys shouted, right before Peter slammed a kick across his face. 

“Sure, the more the merrier!” he agreed cheerfully, slipping around another guy and using a web to throw him into a second. 

As if on cue, even more men raced around the side of the building. Peter counted at least seven. “Uh… yep,” he said, a little less sure now. He dodged a swing of a baseball bat, pulled it out of the wielder's hands with a web, and threw it at a different guy. “We might, y’know, need some more refreshments for everyone - hey, big guy!” 

He leapt over two different dudes and landed on the ground in front of the largest guy he’d seen yet. “It was… your job -” He ducked under one large fist. “- to bring -” He shot web at said fist, and scooted around behind the guy, securing his fist to his front. “- enough soda!” He latched the other fist across his chest, giving the dude the appearance of a straight jacket made out of webbing and his own arms. The guy stumbled and fell. Peter shook his head. “That’s what happens when you don’t play a good host!” 

His senses flared up, and he quickly spun, just in time to see a cinder block fly into his face. Peter grunted and staggered, holding his face in his hand. Something swept under his leg, knocking him down. He quickly got back to his feet, however, and ducked away from another cinder block. 

“You guys have _ guns,” _ he exclaimed, pulling one away from a guy who was struggling to reload it. “Why don’t you use them?” He chucked the gun at one of the men throwing cinder blocks, and secured him to the wall with a quick web before ducking forward, knocking a different guy back with a spin kick to the chest. A bullet grazed his side, and he hissed, sparing a quick glance down to see if it had ripped through his suit before twisting out of the way of the swing of a crow bar. 

“Okay,” he said, jumping up onto the outer wall of the warehouse. “At least you know _ how _ to use them. Ned, how’s it coming?” 

_ “Working on it,” _ Ned replied, vaguely. _ “You doing okay?” _

“Uh…” Peter flipped off the wall as yet another cinder block struck the place he’d been, landing on the ground. “Y’know. _ Mas o menos.” _

**7:54 PM**

Felicia carefully opened the vent after peering through the slats to make sure the corridor was clear. She silently slid out of it, landing nimbly on the floor beneath her, and glanced up and down the hall. Above, she could hear the commotion of different men rushing outside to help their companions fight Peter. The corridor itself appeared to be empty. 

“Ned?” she prompted. 

_ “Yeah, uh, both of the rooms with cameras are empty,” _ he replied in her ear. _ “They ran upstairs as soon as the commotion started.” _

She nodded to herself, and walked forward, passing by the first two doors and pausing in front of a third. She tapped the door knob, lightly, and when the door didn’t immediately explode in her face, tried to actually turn the knob. It was locked. She crouched down, and inserted the claws embedded into her gloves on her pointer fingers into the lock, and went to work. 

“Anyone coming?” she asked, quietly, listening for clicks in the lock. 

_ “No, you’re clear. I’ve got eyes on the stairs. The last of the guys just ran outside,” _ Ned answered. 

Felicia allowed her shoulders to relax. She had time. Peter was handling things upstairs. She twisted her wrist, very slightly, and applied more pressure with her other hand. Holding her tongue between her teeth, she then, very gently, turned that claw. The lock clicked open. 

Felicia smiled to herself, and stood up straight again. She opened the door. 

The room appeared to be another office of some kind. There was a large desk in the center of the room, with a green desk chair behind it. A couple of bookshelves sat on the wall behind the chair, filled more with knick-knacks than actual books. Even more knick-knacks covered the surface of the desk, including what looked to be a pretty heavy bust of Wilson Fisk himself. Felicia rolled her eyes to herself, stepping into the room. Rich had always liked his toys. 

She heard the slightest of movement behind her, and turned around just in time to see the door swing closed. The lock clicked. Richard Fisk removed his hand from the knob, and slid his hands into the pockets of the gray slacks that he wore. He smiled, teeth white in the fluorescent lighting of the room. 

“Hello, Felicia,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”

_ “Felicia? What’s happening?” _Ned demanded in her ear. 

Felicia lifted her chin, slightly. “Richie,” she said. “Can’t say the same.” 

_ “What? Is that _ \- _ Richard Fisk is _ in there _ with you?” _ Ned exclaimed. 

Fisk’s smile merely widened. “I should have expected you to make an appearance. Joseph informed me of the robbery that occurred at his studio, sent me pictures of the thief’s mark.” He shook his head. “I’d recognize your art anywhere, Kitty.”

“I wanted you to know I was there,” Felicia said with a shrug. “Give you time to prepare. You knew I wouldn’t let you get away with selling that weapon.”

“And what was your plan, once you managed to take it from the warehouse?” Fisk queried, leaning back against the door. “You don’t even know what it is; how would you have disposed of it?” 

“I enlisted some help,” Felicia answered. She’d backed away, a little, and now found her back pressed against the desk. She let her hand trail over the surface. “You might know him.”

“Yes, the… well. My father used to call him the Spider-Shit,” Fisk replied. A little bit of the cheer went out of his smile, replaced by what seemed to be a sour taste in his mouth. “Until he got him thrown onto the Raft, that is.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t dedicated more of your time to breaking him out,” Felicia said. Her hand had settled on the base of the bust, and she gripped it. 

“He would have preferred I focus on keeping the business running,” Fisk responded with a shrug. “Dad can break himself out.” He tilted his head. “After all, he has some unfinished business on the outside.”

Felicia bristled, but did her best not to show it. “Why can’t you motherfuckers accept defeat?” she asked, her voice even. “Spider-Man put your father in prison. The _ max security prison, _ even. You’d think the two of you would be able to take the hint.” She offered him a tilt of her own head. “What would your _ mother _ think, knowing that your father had managed to drag you into his mess, even after she’d tried her hardest to keep you away from it?” 

Richard wasn’t as good at hiding his anger as she was. She saw him stiffen, saw his fists clench inside his pockets. “You don’t know a thing about my mother, or our family,” he told her. 

Felicia snorted. “Please, I dated you for three years, Rich. I know more than you’d care to admit.” She carefully lifted the bust up behind her, being sure not to make any noise with it as she did so. “Which is why I know I can’t leave that weapon in your possession, no matter what it is.”

She pitched the bust at him, landing it against the side of his head. Fisk cursed, and reached up to cradle the place it had hit him, at the same time staggering sideways and hitting a button on the wall that she hadn’t noticed. Immediately, an alarm went up from somewhere in the building. 

“The two of you are outnumbered,” Fisk growled at her as Felicia darted towards the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. “My father’s men won’t let you take that weapon out of this building!” 

“I don’t exactly plan on asking if I can,” Felicia replied, shortly, and she ducked out of the room, quickly scooting across the hall to the other door. 

_ “Felicia! Thank fuck you’re okay!” _Ned said, sounding relieved. 

“Of course I’m okay,” she grumbled, quickly placing her claws into the lock on the new door. “What’s the situation upstairs? Fisk set off an alarm.”

_ “Yeah, we heard it,” _ Ned replied. _ ”Peter’s trying to keep the guys from getting back inside, but there’s a lot of them, so… work fast.” _

“I can only lockpick a door _ so fast, _ Nedward,” Felicia retorted. She could feel sweat beading on her forehead. 

_ “Fuck lockpicking!” _ There was Peter, as well as the sound of many guns firing and many men shouting expletives. _ “Just kick the fucking door down!” _

“I’m not _ Superman!” _Felicia snapped, at the same time the lock clicked open. She hastily stood and pushed her way into the room, just as she heard Fisk stumble his way out into the hall behind her. 

“Felicia!” he called, his voice a bit slurred.

_ Good, you shit ass, _ Felicia thought bitterly, casting a look around the room. _ I hope I gave you a fucking concussion. _

The room was empty aside from a single, metal box in the center of the room. Felicia spared a glance for traps of any kind, whether they be lasers across the ground waiting to trigger something, or otherwise. She spotted nothing, and stepped into the room. 

_ “What is it?” _ Ned asked. _ “Also, Fisk’s coming down the hall.” _

“It’s just… a box,” Felicia replied, frowning at it. She bent down, inspected the surface. It was smooth, black. It looked almost like obsidian, but when she reached out a hand, it passed easily over the material. Not obsidian, then. “I have no idea what it could be, but I’m getting it out of here.”

_ “Soon would be preferable!” _Peter said, sounding strained. She heard him grunt, and then the sound of something heavy hitting something else. 

Felicia exhaled, and bent to pick up the box, but paused when she heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked behind her. 

“Step away from the box, Kitty,” Richard Fisk murmured from behind her. “I really don’t want to ruin your pretty blonde hair by blowing your fucking brains out all over the wall.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The teaching went fine, I guess, in case anyone was curious. 
> 
> Also, I love writing Spider-Man. Peter's fun, too, but Spider-Man is the best.


	67. Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets a little help, leaving him to help Felicia.

**January 24th, 2024 - 36th an 10th, Hell's Kitchen, New York, NY, USA - 7:58 PM**

Peter wheezed as he struggled to push himself back into a standing position. They’d really been wailing on him, just then. Thank God he’d been smart enough to get the doors sealed with some web, but it wouldn’t last. He tried, yet again, to get up, but his arms quaked, and he fell back to his chest on the dead grass, wheezing a little bit more. His ribs were _ definitely _ broken, and his leg was killing him. He was fucked up, in layman's terms. 

_ C’mon, Spider-Man, _ he thought, and gave standing another shot. He couldn’t even get his arms straight beneath him, now. Fuck, he was tired. 

_ “Spider-Man, Fisk has Felicia cornered!” _ Ned said desperately in his earpiece. _ “What’s going on?” _

“I can’t… I can’t get up,” Peter whispered, eyes closing. 

_ “What do you mean?” _ Ned said, shrilly. _ “You always get up!” _

“Yeah,” Peter managed, “when all my ribs aren’t broken or cracked.” 

_ “Fuck this,” _he heard a familiar voice hiss, and he watched through blurry vision as the men that were trying to get into the warehouse were blown backwards. There was a high pitched frequency coming from somewhere, and Peter winced against it, confused as all hell. 

“What -?” He fell silent when someone, dressed in all black, jumped to the ground in front of where he lay against the wall, and walked with purpose towards the men. Two of them were staggering to their feet, and turning to face the new arrival. Peter watched in a mixture of fascination and delirium as the figure in black ducked nimbly beneath their attacks.

They spun, leg in the air, and kicked one in the face, before immediately jumping up and raveling some type of black wire around the neck of the other. The guy staggered around the yard, desperately tugging at the wire. He slammed the figure in black up against the wall of the warehouse, successfully dislodging them from his back.

The figure’s head drooped. They were clearly dazed, if the fact that they remained on the ground was any indication. 

“Little bitch!” the guy they’d been choking hissed through a destroyed windpipe, before he collapsed. The single guy who’d gone back to dealing with the web realized that all his compatriots had fallen, the yard littered with unconscious bodies, and he spun away from the door, growling. 

_ “Peter! Peter, that’s Cheri!” _Ned’s voice exclaimed as the guy stalked towards the figure that was still slumped against the wall. 

Peter cursed to himself, and gave sitting up a final try. He succeeded, this time, and staggered to his feet, teeth clenched, just as the guy was drawing back his foot to send a swift kick into Cheri’s chest. Peter shot out a web, which latched to the guy’s foot, and he pulled, hard, despite the pain it sent through his midsection. He heard newly healed ribs crack again, not having solidified all the way through. The guy was dragged across the dead grass towards him, however, and Peter managed to secure him to the ground with a different web before he had to fall to his knees again, coughing. 

He heard a sharp intake of breath come from Cheri’s direction, and then heard her grunt, and force herself to stand. “Fuck, what hit me?” she muttered to herself, and then she must have caught sight of him, because she inhaled, again, and he heard her hurry across the yard towards where he was. “Pete! Peter?” 

“Ribs,” he whispered, shaking his head when she crouched down next to him. “Felicia needs help.”

“Right, okay,” Cheri agreed, standing up again. It must have been too fast for her, however, because she stumbled, a little, and then fell completely, back down to her knees. 

“That’s a concussion,” Peter said, watching. He sucked in a sharp breath, and pushed himself up instead, inhaling as deeply as he could. “Stay up here.”

Cheri’s head swiveled in his direction, very quickly. “What? No! Your ribs are broken, and -” She cut off, her expression twisting, and then she leaned sideways and dry heaved over the grass. Dimly, Peter was relieved to see that she hadn’t _ actually _ vomited; that would have been _ very _ bad. 

“A _ serious _ concussion,” he amended his previous diagnosis. “I’ve got this. Stay here. Call Mr. Stark, if you can, so that we can get the weapon out of here as fast as possible.”

“But, Pete -”

“Cheri, _ please,” _ Peter said. “We don’t have time for you to argue with me.” 

_ “You really don’t,” _ Ned agreed in his earpiece. _ “She’s holding him off, but she could really use some fuckin’ help.” _

“I’m heading down there,” Peter replied, walking past where Cheri had fallen silent, head cradled in her palm. “Call Mr. Stark.”

“Okay,” she murmured. “I can do that.”

Peter moved as quickly across the yard as he could, fired web dissolver at the doors, and pushed his way into the warehouse. 

**8:02 PM**

Felicia stared Fisk down, gaze level. “Listen to me,” she said, slowly. “This isn’t the life you were meant for.”

Fisk snorted derisively. “I could say the same thing to you, thief,” he retorted, sharply. “Step away from the box.”

“I can’t let you sell this,” Felicia said. “I’ll bet _ you _ don’t even know what it is, what it could _ do. _ Are you really willing to let your father sell something that you don’t even understand? Why would you let him release a weapon like that to some unknown buyer?” 

Fisk’s expression did not shift. “It has nothing to do with my father,” he said. “This is _ my _ weapon, and selling it to the highest bidder is what I plan to do with it. Move.”

“Rich, come on,” Felicia said, softly. “You don’t need to do this. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to do this.”

“Felicia, it’s the family business,” Fisk told her, his voice just as low. “My mother was just as involved in all this as my father and I. She was the one who taught me how to close a deal.” He rested his finger over the trigger of the pistol he held, trained at her head. His hand was shaking, through, Felicia could see, probably due to the dizziness he had to be experiencing. She’d thrown that bust hard. “Don’t draw this out any further. Move away from the box.” 

Felicia noticed movement behind him, in the hallway, and she very carefully did not let her eyes track Peter as he crawled across the hallway wall opposite the room they stood in. She instead kept them on Richard. 

“This can end well for everybody,” she told him. “Just let me take it. No one will blame you.” 

“I’ll blame myself,” Fisk replied, dryly. “I intend to sell the weapon, and if you continue to stand there and -” His words were cut off as a web attached to the gun, and drew it backwards, straight into his face. Fisk staggered, and Felicia quickly turned back to the box, getting her arms beneath it. She slipped around Fisk and out into the hallway. Peter jumped down from the wall, and fired another web, securing Fisk to the wall at the back of the room the box had been in. He pulled the door closed, and sealed it shut with more web, before he waved Felicia away down the hall ahead of him. 

“Go!” 

Felicia turned and jogged towards the stairs at one end of the hall. She went up them, and hurried out of the warehouse itself, the box cradled in her arms. She spotted Cheri slumped against the wall that lined the yard, and she hesitated only the slightest moment before she fumbled for her grappling hook, trying to hold the box and pull the hook out at the same time. 

“What are you doing?” 

She paused, hearing the voice, and sighed, turning to face Peter, who’d followed her out of the warehouse. He looked pretty bad, she saw; his suit was torn in several places, and there was blood on his mask, implying that his nose had bled, or was still bleeding. 

“What I do best: stealing,” she responded, and finally pulled out her hook. “Sorry, Spider.” She aimed for the closest building, and hit the button, zipping away from him. 

“No, Felicia!” Peter exclaimed, and he started to shoot a web, to follow her. He hesitated, however, when he caught sight of Cheri leaning back against the wall, head hanging limply on her neck. _ Fuck, fuck, fuck - _

“Spider-Man.” The familiar, slightly robotic voice sent a thrill of adrenaline through his entire being, and he spun, watching as Iron Man landed on the grass just behind him. “Situation?”

“Uh - thief, weapon, Cheri has a concussion, I gotta -”

“Go,” Tony told him, the suit disappearing into the arc reactor on his chest as he hurried across the yard to where Cheri was. “Go, before she gets too far!” 

Peter nodded, and quickly fired a web, feeling only the slightest bit like he’d made the wrong choice as he went the same direction Felicia had gone.


	68. Caught In A Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony helps Cheri, and Peter chases Felicia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an exam today! This will probably be up afterwards! I hope it went fine!

**January 24th, 2024 - 36th and 10th, Hell's Kitchen, New York, NY, USA - 8:06 PM**

“Cheri, hey,” Tony said, placing his hand beneath her chin and gently lifting her head. She murmured something incoherent in response, and he let out a breath of relief. “Good, stay awake for me, okay? We’re gonna get you checked out.”

He reached around to the back of her head, and winced, pulling his hand away. His fingers were red with blood. “Not good, Peanuts,” he said, tearing off the lower half of the shirt he was wearing. He tied it around her head, placing the thickest part of the makeshift bandage over the wound on the back of it. Cheri blinked blearily up at him. 

“I’m… bleeding?” she asked, drowsily. 

“Yep, but it’s all right,” he responded, the suit materializing around him again. He slid his arms beneath her, hoisting her up. Her head rested against his shoulder, and she blinked a few more times, dazed. “Stay awake, kiddo. Keep talking to me.”

“My mom’s… gonna be pissed,” she mumbled after a moment. 

“I bet,” Tony agreed, firing the thrusters on the suit’s boots and lifting them into the air. “FRI, flight pattern for the closest hospital, and get Bruce on the phone. Stephen, too, if you can.”

“Setting route for West Medical,” FRIDAY chirped. “Dialing Dr. Banner.”

The line rang twice, and then Bruce picked up. “Tone? What’s going on?”

“The kids got into something,” Tony replied. “I’m taking Cheri to West Medical. Any chance you’re nearby?”

“No,” Bruce said, and he sounded frustrated. “I’m at the Compound.”

“All right, that’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. “The hospital has doctors, too, I just would’ve liked to have had _ my _ doctor there, but I should’ve expected you to be upstate.” 

“We were down in the city earlier -”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Tony said, cutting him off. “Listen, you don’t need to come out here, but if you’re… y’know, bored, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m coming,” Bruce assured. “I’ll be there as soon as I can be.”

“Take one of the suits,” Tony said, and then ended the call. He could see the hospital, now, and he lowered his altitude before addressing FRIDAY again. “Now Stephen, I guess. Unless I shouldn’t bother him…”

“Calling Dr. Strange,” FRIDAY said, which made his decision much easier. 

Stephen picked up on the first ring. “Tony?” 

“Hi, sorry, buttercup, I know it’s kind of late, but uh… one of my kids has a head injury, possible skull fracture,” Tony said. “I’m heading over to West Medical, if… y’know, you’re inclined to maybe pop in on an old stomping ground.”

“I never worked at West Medical,” Stephen said, “but of course I’ll come. It’s Cheri?” 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. “I don’t really know what’s going on, but let me just say… they’re lucky I was working at the Tower, tonight.”

“You work too much,” Cheri slurred in his arms, just as Tony set his feet down on the street outside the emergency room entrance of the hospital. Several medical officials ran out to meet them, clearly having been alerted by FRIDAY, and Tony let them take Cheri from him. They set her down on a stretcher and hurried her away inside. 

“I think she’ll be okay,” he said, sighing. 

“I’m sure she will be,” Stephen answered. “I’ll be there in seconds. Literally.”

The call ended, and then a portal flashed, Stephen stepping through it to stand in front of him. Tony shook his head, tapping the arc reactor to store the suit. 

“Show off,” he said, smiling a little, and then the two of them jogged into the emergency room. 

**30th & 5th, Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 8:10 PM**

Peter caught sight of Felicia a lot sooner than he thought he’d be able to. He trailed her over rooftops and through narrow alleys, cursing himself for not being able to move quick enough to run her down. If he’d been healthy, he would’ve already caught up to her, but with his healing ribs and everything else, he was no faster than she was. Felicia also didn’t seem inclined to make a mistake, in order to give him a break. 

Until she did. 

She stumbled, landed the wrong way on a rooftop. That was all it took for Peter to close the distance that remained between them, and he fired a web at her foot, pulling it out from beneath her. Felicia fell to the rooftop, hard. The box tumbled from her arms and rolled away from her. She pushed herself upright, only to have her feet knocked out from beneath her again as Peter landed on the roof in front of her, and swung his leg out. Felicia fell onto her back, and Peter very quickly secured her to the roof with another web. 

Felicia struggled for only a moment before giving up. She glared up at the sky, knowing that she’d been beat. 

“What the fuck?” Peter asked after a very long moment, between pants. 

Felicia closed her eyes. “I can explain,” she said. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to do it this way, Peter, but I didn’t think I had any other choice, after it went sideways down there. He wasn’t supposed to _ see me.” _

“Okay, I don’t have time for you to hate yourself, or whatever,” Peter told her, sinking into a squat, arm cradling his midsection. “My girlfriend’s at the hospital, and I probably need to be at one, too, so… tell me what I need to know.” 

“Fine,” she said. “A long time ago, my father was in business with Wilson Fisk. He was a thief, too, and he’d… he’d steal whatever Fisk wanted him to, for a price, and then Fisk would give him a portion of whatever turn-around he got for the things my father stole. I didn’t like it, and my dad really didn't either, but he was a _ good thief, _ and it’s… it was the only way we were able to make money.

“About two years ago, things went… badly, on a particular job. My dad was caught, and in exchange for a fine instead of prison time, he gave up some pretty serious info on Fisk, his illegal dealings, his partners, whatever. It wasn’t good. I’m sure some of it helped you and the police bring him in, last October.”

Felicia paused for a moment, doing her best not to show any emotion. “They didn’t get him right away,” she said, “obviously, which gave him plenty of time to go after my dad. He had him killed. I… I promised myself that I’d do everything I could to take down the Fisk family, starting with Wilson and ending with his son.” She turned her head towards the crate, eyes opening again. “I… I was going to take that, and… sell it to one of Fisk’s competitors.”

“Jesus,” Peter sighed, resting his head in his hands. “You said you wanted to _ destroy _it.”

“We don’t even know what _ it _ is!” Felicia exclaimed. “Just that it’s very expensive.” 

“It’s a _ weapon, _ no matter _ how _ expensive it is!” Peter retorted, shooting her a look. “No matter who sells it, whoever buys it will still put it to use, and _ kill _ people! You were going to let that happen, in order to, what, cut a single profit out of Fisk’s business? Who _ cares?” _

“He killed my father!” 

“You were going to let someone else kill dozens, maybe hundreds, maybe _ thousands!” _ Felicia did not respond, and Peter inhaled. “Felicia, I understand your anger. I understand why you’d want to get back at them, but this _ isn’t _ the way to do that.” 

“What do you suggest, then?” Felicia demanded, sourly. 

“You kill their business, make sure they get locked away for good, a place where their reach can’t extend beyond the bars of their cells,” he answered, lowering his own voice. 

“You’re even more naive than I thought if you really believe that they won’t have access to the outside world because they’re in prison,” Felicia muttered. “This is why I didn’t tell you the truth, because I knew you’d suggest something ridiculous like this.”

“Felicia, I’m not going to let you sell a weapon that might be able to take out a city,” Peter told her. “That’s just… not happening. Ever. So… if you want to pitch a different idea to me, that doesn’t end with you in jail, too, I’m all ears. If not, I’m just gonna go ahead and leave you here, take the box with me, and get going.”

“Don’t… don’t stop me, before I can take them out, Peter, please,” Felicia whispered. Peter glanced at her, and saw that her eyes were red with unshed tears. “This is… it’s the only thing keeping me going. I…” She trailed off, and closed her eyes, turning her head away. 

For a very long moment, Peter didn’t move. Finally, he let out a quiet groan, and adjusted his web shooters. He silently shot some dissolver onto the web holding her to the roof. Felicia slowly sat up, sliding her mask up onto her forehead as she did so. “Thanks,” she mumbled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Uh… I’m not - you’re right about not selling the weapon to a different shit head. That was a bad idea from the start.” 

“You don’t say,” Peter replied, flatly. 

“But I… I have to see this through,” she said. “Richard’s probably going to get away, before the police get to him, and I can’t… I need to stop him. I believe what I said before, about them being in prison not stopping their business practices, but…” She trailed off, and let out a sigh. “But you’re right in that it’ll slow them down. Which is about as much as I can ask for, at this point. Unless I plan on killing them, which I won’t do.”

“With them both off the streets,” Peter said, after a moment, “it’ll be much easier to stop them for good, I promise.”

Felicia gazed at him. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, climbing to her feet. She glanced briefly at the box, and then at him again. “You gonna be okay?” 

Peter sighed. “Yeah. Are… I mean. Will we see you again?” 

Felicia smiled, slightly, and shrugged. “Maybe. I guess you’re all pretty cool.” Her smile faded. “Is Cheri -?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I need to go find out.”

“Right,” she agreed, and she bent down, retrieving her grappling hook where she’d dropped it on the rooftop when she fell. She glanced it over for a moment, and then at him. “I’ll see you around, Spider. Try not to get in the way of my revenge, all right?” 

“As long as you don’t put any innocents in danger, I’ll leave it to you,” Peter assured. 

“Fair enough,” she said, and then she fired her hook towards a building across the street from the one they were on. “Later.”

Peter watched her go, and then he groaned, falling backwards on the roof, eyes falling shut. He needed to get to whatever hospital Tony had taken Cheri to, but he also needed a quick second to orient himself. It had been a rough half-hour. 

_ “Peter? You okay?” _

He sighed. “I think so. Sorry, Ned, but I don’t think we’ll be seeing her again for a while.”

_ “That’s all right,” _ Ned said after a moment. _ “She told me that she’s gay, so.” _

Peter smiled to himself, and pushed himself back into a sitting position. “Do you know where Mr. Stark took Cheri?” 

_ “West Medical,” _ Ned answered. _ “Harry’s driving us over there right now. We weren’t sure -” _

“I’m on my way,” Peter said, and stood. “Did the police get to the warehouse?” 

_ “Yeah, but I don’t know what they’ll find,” _ Ned said. _ “I was kicked out of the network.” _

“That’s all right,” Peter sighed, frowning to himself. “I’m sure I’ll find out what happened on that front sooner or later. You’re okay?” 

_ “Yeah, of course. Guy in the Chair stays out of the danger. That’s why it’s the best gig.” _

Peter snorted, and glanced around the rooftop. He studied the box for a second, wonderingly. He’d expected the weapon to look more intimidating than this. Whatever it was, he would be glad for it to leave his possession. The sooner he could get it to Tony, the better.

He picked it up, standing. “Karen, how far are we from West Medical?”

“About five minutes,” Karen said. 

“And, like… my insides? Can we get over there okay?” 

“Your ribs are still fragile,” Karen replied, “and I’m detecting a hairline fracture in your left leg, but otherwise -”

“Sounds good to me,” Peter said, and he fired a web, holding the box under his other arm.


	69. Recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's at the hospital. There are talks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 69. Nice.

**January 24th, 2024 - West Medical - 606 W 30th St., New York, NY, USA - 10:28 PM**

Cheri sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering open. She regretted that almost immediately, as the bright lights of wherever she was immediately made her eyes ache. She closed them again, willing the white bursts behind her eyelids to fade. She wished that the throbbing in her head would go away, too. 

“Cher?” The familiar voice made her want to open her eyes, despite the bright lights that waited if she did. She felt a hand slide into hers. “Hey, it’s all right, Treble, you’re safe.”

“Are you?” she murmured. 

“Yeah,” Peter replied, amused. “I got patched up.” He had been, by Bruce, in a supply closest of the hospital, so he wasn’t lying, necessarily. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

Cheri snorted. “Someone hit my head for me,” she said, unhappily. “I’m sorry, Pete, I just wanted to help. You weren’t getting up, and you _ said _-”

“Yeah, I know what I said,” he agreed, “and I’m sorry I couldn’t have protected you, kept you from getting hurt.”

“I was protecting _ you,” _ Cheri retorted. She finally chanced opening her eyes, after turning her head in the direction his voice was coming from. She smiled when she saw his face, rather than the lights of the hospital room she was in. There was still a light red stain under his nose, from when it had been bleeding, but otherwise, he looked okay, if not tired.

Peter _ was _ tired. His body had been working overtime, having to heal all his ribs twice, along with all the artificial injuries he’d obtained. As such, he felt drained, and knew that he’d need to get some sleep, soon, but he’d wanted her to see him, when she came to again. 

“They said you’re going to be okay,” he told her. “There was a small fracture in your skull; they, uh… had to cut away some of your hair to get to it.” 

Cheri made a face, before sighing. “That’s all right, I have enough hair to hide it. Do I have stitches?” 

“Yeah,” Peter answered with a nod. “Dr. Strange is here; he watched during the entire process, to make sure they didn’t mess anything up. That was Mr. Stark’s idea.” 

“Why?” 

“Dr. Strange was a neurosurgeon,” Peter explained. “It’s a long story, why he’s not anymore.”

“Mm, maybe you can tell it to me when you don’t look so tired,” Cheri said after a moment. She eased her eyes closed again, and squeezed his hand. “Are we allowed to go home?” 

“Not tonight,” he replied, regretfully. “They want to keep you here, make sure you don’t start to experience amnesia, or anything else.” He forced a chuckle. “When you almost threw up earlier… that scared the hell out of me.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” Cheri said, lightly. “I’m okay.” 

“You are,” Peter agreed. “You just need to get some rest. I’m going to email your teacher tomorrow, let him know that you got hurt.”

“Yeah. He won’t ask what happened; just send proof that I was admitted to the hospital, too.” 

“Got it,” Peter said. He stood up from the chair he’d been using, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to go tell the others that you’re okay. I’ll be back.”

“And then you’ll sleep?” she asked him, somehow managing to sound stern. Peter smiled. 

“And then I’ll sleep,” he assured her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Fat chance,” she murmured. 

Peter chuckled, and exited the hospital room, walking down the hall to the waiting area. Harry had fallen asleep, he noticed, head resting on Ned’s shoulder. Ned was fiddling with his phone, but he looked up when Peter approached the chairs they sat in. 

“Hey,” he said, startling Harry awake. “Is she okay?” 

“Yeah, she's fine,” Peter replied, sliding his hands into his pockets. “She needs to rest, that’s all. You guys can head home.” He glanced Harry over, and turned back to Ned. “You drive.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Ned said, standing. Harry did the same, stretching and yawning, eyes half-closed. 

“Thanks for your help tonight, Ned,” Peter told him. “I probably wouldn’t have gotten down to Felicia in time if you hadn’t told me she needed help; something tells me she wouldn’t have said anything herself, so.” 

Ned smiled. “You’re probably right. Mr. Stark told me to let you know that he’ll take care of the weapon. He says he thinks the box is made of vibranium.” 

Peter frowned a little. “I guess… to protect it, maybe,” he said. 

“Or protect the people handling it,” Ned suggested, quietly. “He said you should call him tomorrow.”

“Right.” Peter glanced over his shoulder momentarily, towards where Stephen was sitting in a different chair, thumbing through a magazine. He turned back to Ned, who’d also looked at Stephen. 

“So… are he and Mr. Stark boning?” he asked at last, softly, and Peter shrugged. 

“No idea. Probably? I’m not… I don’t really want to know.”

“Yeah, fair,” Ned said, and he gestured. “C’mon, Harry, let’s go home. You need a bed.”

“Bed,” Harry agreed, mumbling, and Peter watched his two friends exit the waiting room, Harry leaning forward against Ned’s back. He smiled to himself, and then looked at Stephen again. The doctor had already lifted his gaze from the magazine he held, and was watching him. 

Peter’s smile faded. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, and walked over to where the doctor sat. Stephen closed the magazine, and set it off to the side. 

“I assume she woke up?” he asked. 

Peter nodded. "She seems okay."

“Good.” They stared at one another for a long moment. “Mr. Parker -”

“Why are you here, exactly?” Peter asked, interrupting. 

Stephen sighed. “Because Tony asked me to be.” 

“And that’s just how it is, now? You do things because he asks you to?” 

“That’s typically how a relationship works,” Stephen said, slowly. “If one half of a partnership requires help that the other half can give, they do so. Surely you understand this concept.”

“I do,” Peter said. “I’m just wondering if it means as much to you as it does to Mr. Stark.”

“If it didn’t, do you think I would be here?” Stephen asked him. “I’m surprised by this line of questioning; from what Tony’s told me, you seem to think that I do something for him. Help him… feel better than he has.”

“Maybe.” Peter crossed his arms, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain the motion sent through his abdomen. _Stupid sore ribs._ “But does it matter, if he doesn’t help you feel better, too?” 

“Who’s to say that he doesn’t?” Stephen returned. “We’ve only been in a relationship for a few weeks. I cannot say for certain where this will go.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Peter said. “What matters to _ me _ is what’ll happen to my mentor, no matter where _ this _ goes. I don’t… he’s been through a lot, Dr. Strange, and I honestly believe that he’s better when you’re around, more relaxed, more like himself. But if… this can’t be one-sided, because that’ll only end badly for the both of you, probably worse for him. So, if you don’t feel more like _ yourself, _ when you’re around _ him, _ then I don’t think the end result is worth whatever he gains from being around you.” 

Stephen studied him for a moment. “All of Tony Stark’s children are so protective of him,” he said after a moment, and Peter frowned. 

“What - no, y’know what? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether or not you understand what I’m saying.”

“I do, believe me,” Stephen said. “And I do like Tony, Peter. I’m not… I can’t say whether this relationship is doing the same thing for me as it is for him, but I… as long as I _ like _ him, then it works. Don’t you think?” 

“No,” Peter said, “because Mr. Stark gets super attached to people, and if you decide that you don’t like him, eventually, it’ll ruin him, and that’s already happened too much to him for me to let it willingly happen again.”

Stephen’s gaze drifted past him, and Peter realized a moment too late that he was looking at someone behind him. He turned, and saw Tony standing there, suit still disappearing into the arc reactor on his chest. He put on his glasses, then slid his hands into his pockets, smiling. 

“He grilling you, buttercup?” he asked, walking around Peter to join Stephen. 

“Just a little,” Stephen answered, glancing briefly at Peter before he turned his attention to Tony instead. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “It’s all right. He’s just looking out for you.”

“Hey, I’m supposed to look out for _ you,” _Tony said, turning to Peter. 

“Yeah, but…” He trailed off, and sighed. “Never mind. What’re you doing back here? Ned said I was supposed to call you in the morning.”

“I know,” Tony said, “but I sent the box thing back to the Compound with Bruce, after we met up with Rogers and Wilson. They’ll keep an eye on it, until we can figure out what’s up with it.” 

“It should be destroyed.”

“And it will be, once we know exactly what it is, and the best way _ to _ destroy it,” Tony assured, “but that isn’t going to be happening tonight.” He sat down in the chair next to Stephen’s. “So, I’m here to wait for tomorrow. Have you talked to Isabel?” 

“No, not - I’ve been with Cheri,” Peter said, glancing downwards.

“Then I’ll call her,” Tony decided. “You head back in to your girlfriend, and get some sleep, all right?” 

“But -” Peter cut off, seeing the expression on Tony’s face. He spared Stephen one final look before exhaling. “Fine.” 

He turned, and walked back towards Cheri’s room. Once he was out of earshot, Tony let out a quiet groan, and leaned his head against the wall. Stephen chuckled. 

“What did he say to you, really?” Tony asked him, eyes closed. When Stephen did not immediately respond, he opened one, and glanced at him. “Stephen?” 

“He’s… worried, about what this relationship might do to you, if it turns out that I don’t… want it to last,” the doctor admitted. 

Tony immediately sat up straight, both eyes open. He turned in his chair to face Stephen, frowning. “What?” 

Stephen shook his head. “It’s nothing, Tony. I admire how much he cares for you.” 

“No, it -” Tony paused, inhaling slowly. “Is there validity to his worry?” 

Stephen looked at him. “Tony -”

“I just… I want to know, now,” he said, “so that I can… y’know, figure this out, figure out if it’s even worth my time.”

“Tony,” Stephen sighed, reaching up and rubbing the space between his eyebrows, “I don’t _ know. _ We’ve been together for, what, three weeks? And it seems like you think I need to know where this will be a few months from now.” 

“Yes, I do, because if you don’t think that whatever… attraction you have to me now is going to last, then I don’t want to put myself through the mess that this’ll turn into when it goes away,” Tony said, sharply. 

“It isn’t just _ attraction,” _ Stephen retorted. “I - everyone adores you, Tony. It’s difficult not to, once you allow people to get to know you, but even with everything I’ve learned about you, I still feel as though I barely know anything! You’re _ still _ closed off, and I don’t… I don’t know if this will last, because I don’t know _ you.” _

Tony shook his head. “What more do you need to know?” he demanded. “You’re a goddamn _ wizard. _ You could know anything you want about me.”

“No, I couldn’t, because I’d rather learn about you from you!” 

Silence fell between the two of them. The nurse who was sitting in the glassed-off reception area was very graciously not looking in their direction. Tony stared straight ahead, not willing to be the one to speak first. Finally, he heard Stephen inhale, beside him, and saw him stand from the corner of his eye. 

“I should return to the Sanctorum,” he said, without infliction. “You’re free to call at any point, if Cheri’s condition changes for the worse, but I don’t think that will happen.”

Without another word, he created a portal for himself, and stepped through it. Tony watched it disappear, and then hung his head, breathing steadily. It probably wasn’t a good sign that he was _ aware _ of his breathing, but at least he wasn’t curled into a ball on the floor. 

“I should’ve seen that coming,” he muttered to himself, leaning back against the wall again.

“Boss?” 

“Yeah, honey?” FRIDAY hesitated, and Tony opened his eyes again. “FRI?”

“I… I should explain myself,” the AI finally said. “I had a talk with Dr. Strange, too, like Peter did. About something similar. Just to be sure that Dr. Strange understood what might happen if he were to… force your relationship. Peter and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Tony took a moment. “That’s…” He trailed off, and closed his eyes once more. “Thank you, baby girl. I appreciate it.” 

“You’re not upset?” FRIDAY asked. 

“No, of course not,” he replied, managing a small smile. “I’m sure you scared the hell out of him with your talk.” 

“That wasn’t my intention,” she said. Her voice had lowered. “Did I… did my conversation with him cause him to leave, just now?”

“I don’t think so,” Tony told her. “Not completely, anyway.” He sighed a little. “We’ll have to wait for tomorrow to know more, about everything that happened tonight.”

“All right, boss,” FRIDAY agreed. “Is there anything you need from me?” 

“Nah, not tonight,” he said. “I’m going to give Cheri’s mom a call, and then take a _ siesta. _ You can shift yourself into low power mode, if you want.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” FRIDAY said, and that was it. 

Tony leaned up, pulling his phone free from his pocket, and dialed Isabel’s number, which she’d snuck to him during Christmas, without Cheri knowing. He was unsurprised when she picked up on the first ring. 

“Tony,” she said. He could hear the worry in her voice, despite the fact that he could tell she was trying not to let it show. “I - should I assume that something’s wrong, since you’re the one calling me, instead of my daughter?”

“No,” he said. “Well. She has a concussion, and a small skull fracture, but otherwise she’s fine. Peter was in trouble, so she stepped in, which I imagine is what you would have done, too.”

“Yes,” Isabel sighed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” Tony chuckled, and after a moment, she said, “Is she at the hospital?” 

“Yeah, I brought her over to West Medical,” he answered. “They’re keeping her here overnight. We would’ve called sooner, but we had some things to take care of, all of Peter’s ribs were broken, y’know, a whole fiasco.” 

“It sounds like it,” she agreed. “I should come there.”

“No, you don’t need to,” Tony said. “She’s just going to be sleeping, after all, and Peter’s with her.” He paused. “And I imagine you have work tomorrow, right?”

Isabel was silent for a moment. “I actually _start_ working tomorrow," she said. "As the head of the math department at ESU."

“Oh, really?” Tony asked, interested.

“Yes, it - I taught, when Cheri was first born, but I couldn’t exactly raise my daughter on a teacher’s salary, so when we moved out of my parents', I had to find a different job,” she explained. “Now that Oscorp is in the toilet, I needed to find something new, and teaching is my true passion, so…" She chuckled. "Amazing what sticking around to get a master’s can do for you.” 

“Hey, that’s really impressive!” Tony said, smiling. “I’m sure you're gonna do great, but good luck. Why're you starting two weeks into the semester?”

"The original head of the department was meant to retire at the end of the semester, but circumstances forced him to retire early," Isabel said. "I had the job already; they called me up and asked me to start early."

"Huh." Tony leaned back in his chair. "Well, let me know how it goes."

"I will." There was another moment, and then she said, “May and I were planning our monthly lunch for next Friday. Perhaps you could join us.”

Tony sat up a little bit straighter at the prospect. “I would love that,” he told her. “Just name the time and place.”

She did so, and he made a note on his phone that FRIDAY would automatically place into his main calendar in the morning. He returned the phone to his ear. “Thank you.”

“It probably won’t be a permanent change,” Isabel said. “May and I enjoy our time together, but maybe it could be… bi-monthly.” 

“We can talk about it at lunch,” Tony said with a grin. 

“I’ll see you there,” Isabel agreed. “Let Cheri know to call me, when she can, and tell her I love her.”

“I will absolutely do that,” Tony assured her. “Good night, Isabel.”

“Good night. And thank you.”

"Don't worry about it," Tony said, smiling a bit. "It's... I mean, you'd do the same if it were Peter, right?" 

"Of course," Isabel said immediately. "Let's hope it never is."

Tony closed his eyes. "Right," he said, quietly. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Tony."

He lowered his cell phone, ending the call, and relaxed back against the wall again with a soft exhale of breath. After a moment, his eyes drifted shut, and he managed to drift into a doze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world is on fire, and this is my contribution to society!  
This was the last chapter of the second arc of "Better All The Time." After my spring break, which is all of next week, I'll jump into the third and final arc, of which I'll probably only post one chapter a week, since that seems to get readers more excited, and get them coming back to check for the next update. Gotta keep y'all on your toes.  
See ya in a week! 
> 
> P.S. I would die for sleepy Harold T. Osborn!!


	70. Morning At The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy End of the World let's see if I can finish posting this monstrosity before I bite it.

**January 25th, 2024 - West Medical - 606 W 30th St., New York, NY, USA - 7:31 AM**

“I’m going to want a real breakfast,” Cheri said, poking at the stale piece of toast that had been served to her by a hospital volunteer, alongside some flavorless scrambled eggs and a cup of Jello. She looked over at Peter, who was enjoying his own hospital breakfast much more than he had any right to be. 

Then again, he was _ Peter. _ He’d eat anything. 

“Do you remember when you tried to make eggs for me?” she asked him, and he glanced at her, wincing at the memory.

“Yes, and I burned them, like, hardcore,” he said. “Why would you remind me?” 

She smiled. “It was the morning after I stayed over. For real.”

That memory was a little less cringe-worthy. Peter smiled back. “It was. You had a test that morning. Megan called to make sure you were awake, and I answered, not thinking about it.”

“She teased me for a whole week,” Cheri concluded, and they laughed together. She let out a breath, and glanced down at her toast again. “I didn’t… back then, y’know, I didn’t think we’d someday be having breakfast in a hospital the night after we stopped some bad guys from selling a weapon to different bad guys, but here we are.”

“It is weird to think about where we were, and where we are now,” Peter agreed. He finished the last of his eggs. “But I wouldn’t change anything that’s happened.”

“No, me either,” Cheri said. “Except for maybe the part where I didn’t tell you about SHIELD for, like, a really long time past the point I should have.”

“Mm, yeah, telling me earlier on might have been nice of you,” he replied, and tossed her a grin. “But it’s all right.”

“Only because you’re very forgiving,” Cheri told him. 

“Ah, well…” Peter shrugged his shoulders, and looked down at his empty plate for a moment, before remembering something very important. “So, hey, good news! Ned said that Felicia told him that she’s gay.”

Cheri’s eyebrows raised. “Is that so?” 

“That’s what he told me.”

“Huh.” Cheri reached up and fiddled with her necklace, suddenly very aware of the stitches on the back of her head. “I guess that means I was an ass.” 

“What? No, you - you reacted the way I’d expect anybody to react if someone was making moves on their significant other,” Peter said, quickly. “And… that is what she was doing, for a little while, I guess. Until she realized that wasn’t going to work the way she intended. Not that I’m defending her, obviously.”

He stopped speaking, and looked at Cheri. She was watching him, an amused expression on her face. He huffed. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah, I do,” she agreed. “It was wrong of her to do that, though, wasn’t it?”

“For sure,” Peter said with a nod. “But… I don’t know. Something tells me it’s what Felicia’s used to having to do, to get… sympathy.” He lifted his shoulders after a moment of silence. “But it’s over, now, so.” 

“Yeah,” Cheri agreed. “It’s over.” She squeezed her eyes shut, when a pain shot through the back of her head. Slowly, she reached up, fingers brushing the stitches holding her scalp closed. 

“Don’t,” Peter said, frowning over at her. Cheri frowned back, but lowered her hand all the same. “It could get infected, is all,” he said, more quietly. 

“It’s not going to get infected,” Cheri said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You were hurt,” Peter said. “You might be okay, now, but last night…” He trailed off, and shook his head. “No matter what training you’ve had, you’re not invincible, Treble. I really wish you would have been more careful.” 

“You’re not invincible either, you know,” Cheri told him. “I was just doing the thing we’d agreed I do, if you looked like you needed help. And you _ did _ need help, Peter, whether or not you feel that way.”

“No, I know I did,” he said, “and if you hadn’t taken out those last couple guys, they would have gotten into the warehouse, Felicia would probably be dead, and the weapon would be gone.” He met her gaze. “But you could have been a little less reckless.” 

Cheri snorted. “And what’re you, if not reckless?” 

“I can be reckless, because I can take whatever that brings,” Peter said. “I’m a superhuman, Cher. You’re not.” She turned away after a moment, and Peter let out a breath. “Listen, I… you helped, and I appreciate that, but it… you got hurt because of it, and I can’t -”

“Pete, I’m _ okay,” _Cheri reminded him. “I have some stitches, and I’m going to be be overly tired for the next few days, but that’s it. All of your ribs were broken. So was your nose. You had a hairline fracture in your leg.”

“But look at me,” Peter said, standing and gesturing to himself. “I”m doing fifty times better than you are, because that’s what I’m built for. You might know martial arts, and, like, throw knives with scary accuracy, but physically? You’re just as normal as any other human, and you can’t -.” 

“I wasn’t _ trying _ to get hurt. I was doing what I needed to in order to get those guys away from the doors.”

“But you _ did _ get hurt,” Peter said. “That isn’t what I wanted to happen.”

“It wasn’t your decision. I knew what I was doing, putting myself into the fight, and I did what I had to.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this. It happened, and now we’re here. There’s no point in thinking about what could have been different.” 

Peter gazed at her for a moment, before looking down at the floor. “I just… can’t you promise me that you won’t put yourself at risk for anyone else?” he asked, quietly, and Cheri smiled a little. 

“No.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “You’re around, Queens.”

He sighed, glancing up again. “I can take care of myself,” he told her. 

Cheri started to respond, but before she could, there was a knock on the door of the room. It opened to reveal Tony. He looked a little rugged, still wearing the clothes he had been the night before, but he smiled at them both all the same. 

“Hey, kiddos,” he greeted, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “Enjoy breakfast?”

“Not really,” Cheri replied, frowning down at her unfinished meal. 

“Well, the good news is, you’re free to go,” Tony continued, “just need to head to the front desk to sign a couple of things.” 

“Oh, good,” Cheri said, cheering up immediately at the prospect of going home. 

“Yeah. Also… we might have a bit of an issue,” Tony said. 

“Y’mean aside from the stitches in my head?” Cheri asked, smiling a little. 

“Yeah, aside from that,” Tony agreed. He tapped his glasses, and a projection shot out of the lenses so that Cheri and Peter could see it. It was of a news article, Cheri noted, tilted _ The Iron Daughter?._

She made a face. “What the hell?”

“Apparently, someone got a couple of pictures of me flying you over here last night,” Tony explained, and he scrolled down in the article to show one of said pictures. “This blog has decided to spin it to make it seem like you’re my long-lost daughter, using your employment at Stark Industries as another piece of evidence to prove it.” 

Peter snorted. “For once, it isn’t me!” he said, and he grinned over at Cheri. “Enjoy your newfound fame.”

“But I don’t want it,” Cheri sighed. She glanced at Tony, who’d closed the article and crossed his arms. “It’s just an internet blog?” 

He nodded. “S.I. has footholds in all the major news corporations; they have to check with us before publishing anything that mentions me, or anyone else involved with the company.” He waved one hand. “This thing won’t get blown up on the evening news, don’t worry.” 

“Well, that’s something, at least,” Cheri said, shifting. “Get me out of this hospital before someone takes a picture of us through the window or something.” She moved the tray that had carried her breakfast off of her lap, and started to stand. Peter was there in an instant, arms held out to steady her. 

“Maybe we should give the wheelchair a shot,” he suggested, jerking his chin towards the one that the volunteer had brought in for her to use when they’d brought breakfast. 

“Pfft, wheelchair,” Cheri said with a roll of her eyes. She allowed her innate Hispanic accent to creep into her words just a bit more strongly. “I don’t need no stinkin’ wheelchair.” 

Peter looked towards Tony for help, but his mentor still had his arms crossed, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. Clearly, he would rather see this play out. Peter sighed to himself. 

“All right,” he said, taking a small step back to give her room, “but I really think you’re going to want to use the wheelchair.”

“Nah,” Cheri said. She turned, until her feet rested on the cold tile floor, and stood, slowly. She stayed still for a moment, blinking at the ground, and then she nodded a little, glancing up at him. “See? Totally fine.” She took a step forward, and stumbled into him as her newfound orientation finally established itself in her head, and caused her vision to cross. 

Peter caught her around the waist, holding her up as she scrabbled for purchase on his shoulders, cursing lowly in Spanish. 

“Wheelchair it is,” Peter decided for her, and was glad when she did not argue. Tony pushed it over to them, and Peter helped Cheri sit down in it, before moving behind it to take the handles. 

“I could’ve walked,” Cheri mumbled, arms crossed. 

“I’m sure you could have,” Peter said, reassuringly, and pushed her through the door, which Tony held open for them, still smirking. 

After Cheri had signed what she needed to, they exited the hospital. One of Tony’s cars was waiting for them, idling quietly. After he helped Cheri into the backseat, and returned the wheelchair to the front desk, Peter joined Tony outside, a few steps away from the car. 

“Thanks for staying, last night,” he said. “I know you were probably bored, and didn’t sleep very good.”

“Hey, it’s all right,” Tony said. “But you and I are going to need to have a talk about when it’s the right time to let me know something’s going down, because _in media res_ clearly doesn’t cut it.”

“It was actually, like, the tail end of the final act,” Peter said, sliding into the passenger seat of the car. Tony shook his head to himself, and walked around to the other side, settling down behind the wheel. 

“I’ll drop you guys off, and then I need to head up to the Compound, get caught up on whatever Bruce’s managed to find out about the weapon and the box,” he said, pulling away from the hospital and heading towards their apartment building. 

“I want to know, too,” Peter said, frowning a little. 

“Well, you could come with me,” Tony said, “but do you trust Ned and Harry to look after her?” He nodded towards the backseat, where Cheri had already fallen into a doze. Peter studied her for a moment, before facing forward again, shrugging. 

“We’ll bring her, too,” he said. “It’s not like there isn’t a bed for her to rest in at the Compound.”

“That’s true.” Tony considered it for a moment. “Yeah, all right. It’ll make things easier.” He adjusted their route on the Audi’s GPS, and turned onto a different street. “What do you think’s up with the weapon?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “It’s… it’s probably super dangerous, though, if the box is actually made of vibranium. I’m kind of more concerned about _ that, _ actually.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Tony agreed, almost speaking to himself. He inhaled, and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to you right away, Mr. Stark,” Peter apologized, and Tony glanced sideways at him. 

“Nah, don’t be,” he said, and reached over to tousle the kid’s hair. “Seriously. You thought you could handle it, and you did, for the most part. You were going to get the weapon to us anyway, right?” Peter nodded, and Tony shrugged. “So, really, it went about the way that you planned it would, just with some mishaps. That always happens.”

Peter looked at him for a moment longer before smiling a little, and settling back in his seat.


	71. Vibranium Boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The box is confirmed to be made of vibranium, and the Avengers figure out where to go from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's a long one. Settle in with a snack.

**January 25th, 2024 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 9:59 AM**

The elevator doors opened on the second floor of the Compound, and Peter and Tony stepped out of them. Peter had Cheri cradled in his arms, her head on his shoulder. She’d fallen into a deep sleep on their drive upstate, knocked out by the pain medication she’d taken at breakfast. 

“Go ahead and get her in bed,” Tony suggested, nodding in the direction of Peter’s suite. “I’m gonna grab myself a bagel or something, and I’ll meet you down in the labs.”

“Got it,” Peter said, and he carried Cheri down the hall. Tony went the other way, and stepped into the kitchen of the second floor, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw someone he hadn’t expected to see sitting at the island. 

Stephen glanced up, and his shoulders fell. “Hi,” he said, speaking softly. 

“You look terrible,” was Tony’s response, as he moved to do what he’d told Peter he would, which was make himself a bagel. 

“I didn’t sleep very well,” Stephen admitted. He did not get up from his seat at the island, but Tony could feel him watching his movements. “I didn’t know how long it would be before you got back, so I’ve… just been waiting.”

“For me?” Tony clarified, setting down the bagel and cream cheese on the counter, facing Stephen, who nodded. “What for? To continue our conversation from last night? I was pretty sure we were done with that.”

“To start a new conversation,” Stephen said, keeping his tone level. Tony had to give him props for that, at least. “I regret how last night ended.”

“I bet,” Tony agreed, spreading cream cheese onto one half of the bagel. 

Stephen was silent for a moment, watching as Tony finished with the other half as well. He hastily shoved the cream cheese into the fridge, dumped the knife he’d used into the sink, and picked up the plate he’d put the bagel on. 

“I’m kind of busy, this morning,” Tony said, taking a large bite out of one half, “so if you wanna talk, we’ll have to do it later.”

“Don’t you want to talk?” Stephen asked, a crease between his brows. 

“Eh,” Tony said. He swallowed. “I mean. I’m used to being let down by people who’ve I’ve barely let in, and people I trust implicitly, so this wasn’t much different than most of my other attempts at personal relationships.” He took another bite, and shrugged. “You’re just another name for me to put down in my failure tome.” 

Stephen inhaled, his shoulders rising with the movement. “What if I don’t want to be put into your… failure tome?” he asked, gaze steady on Tony’s. 

“You’ll stick around, and we’ll talk,” Tony replied, easily, and he walked out of the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight of Stephen, he leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, heart thudding away in his ears. His chest felt increasingly tighter, not big enough to hold all his vital organs, much less allow him to breathe on top of that.

“Boss? It seems like you’re experiencing the start of a panic attack,” FRIDAY said, calmly. “Please focus on me; we’re going to get your breathing on track again. You’re going to breathe inwards… hold it… and exhale. Good, again.” 

Tony took the next thirty seconds to recover. When he was stable, he let out a final breath, and opened his eyes again. His knuckles were white, hand gripping the plate that held his bagel very tightly. He switched it over to his other hand, and unclenched his fist. 

“So much for being unbothered,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and continued on to the elevator. 

After a fifteen second ride down to the basement level, he walked down the length of the hall to his own lab, heading inside. Peter and Bruce were both already there, as were Steve and Bucky. All four glanced over at him when he arrived, pushing the last bit of bagel into his mouth. He wasn’t surprised when Peter offered him a look of concern, which he ignored. 

“All right,” he said, walking over to where they stood around the vibranium box. He crossed his arms, and swallowed. “What’ve we got?”

“Box is made of pure vibranium,” Bruce said. “X-rays can’t see through it, so we don’t know what’s inside, and our attempts so far to get it open have been unsuccessful.”

“So… we don’t have much,” Tony concluded, and Bruce shook his head. He slipped his hands into his pockets, cocking his head to the side. “Hm.” He glanced at Steve and Bucky. “What d’you think?”

Steve sighed, crossing his arms. “We could call them,” he said, “but it’s been years, and they’ve already done so much for us.”

“But don’t you think they’ll want to know we have vibranium in our possession? Vibranium that definitely has to have been stolen?” Tony asked. 

“They would,” Bucky said, looking at Steve, whose jaw clenched in uncertainty. 

Peter was frowning. “Are we… are we talking about King T’Challa?” he questioned. “Wakanda?”

“Yeah, vibranium’s their gig,” Tony said, gesturing to the box with one hand. “If there was someone who knew how to get it open, it’d be a Wakandan. Thankfully, Steve and Bucky are pretty close with them, but apparently, not close enough.”

“But it - we need to know what’s in there,” Peter said, looking towards the two super soldiers. “If they can help us get it open -”

“We’ll need to explain where it came from,” Steve said, turning to Tony. “Do we want them to know?” 

“It’s their vibranium; it needs to get back to them one way or another,” Tony responded. “Either way, they’ll know we had it, and we’ll probably need to tell them where it came from, what it’s… protecting.” 

“Fine,” Steve said, exchanging a look with Bucky. “We’ll try to get in contact with someone.” 

“Great,” Tony said, and he pulled up a stool. “We’ve got nothing but time.” 

Peter let out a breath, watching Bucky and Steve exit the lab. He then turned towards Tony. “We don’t know if we have time,” he said. “Fisk’s men are going to be looking for this thing.” He waved his hand at the box. “The police didn’t get to the warehouse in time to apprehend Richard, so he’s still out there.”

“I think a crime boss’s son is one of our smaller worries,” Tony said. “It’s safe here at the Compound; they wouldn’t risk it.” 

Peter inhaled, but did not try to argue further. “Okay,” he said. “I just… I’ll feel better once it’s taken care of, I guess.”

“We all will,” Bruce agreed. He was studying the box with barely disguised distrust. “The vibranium might be holding a number of things, but for some reason my mind keeps going back to some sort of bioweapon.”

“Possibly,” Tony said, frowning. “Pete, how much did you say this thing was going for on Fisk’s auction?”

“Over a million,” Peter replied. “And that was almost an hour before we were actually able to get into the warehouse. The bids could have gone up significantly.” 

“Any ideas on who would pay that much for something like this?” Bruce asked, directing the question to Tony. 

“I mean… any number of terrorist groups,” Tony said, “although over a million _ is _ a lot.” He made a face, and turned around on the stool, scooting closer to the nearest keyboard. “FRIDAY, pull up everything we have on Viastone.”

“What? Tony,” Bruce began with a sigh. “We talked about this.”

“I know, and there’s a restraining order in place, but I’m just thinking about all the possibilities,” Tony responded, examining the information that FRIDAY had pulled related to Tiberius Stone’s telecom company. “I wouldn’t put it beyond Stone to try and control the rest of the world, too, and not just the media part of it.”

“Wait, Stone, like… like Tiberius Stone?” Peter clarified, scowling. “What are you suggesting?” 

“You know what Viastone is,” Tony said over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, the big telecom company that decided to take over telecommunications across the world with their specialty satellites,” Peter said. “Are you telling me that _ he’s _ the owner?” 

“Yep,” Tony replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t already know that.” 

“Just - fuck, what are the chances?” Peter sighed to himself. “And, what, you think that he wanted to buy this whatever-it-is?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted, “but since we don’t know for sure what _ it _ is, it’s a good idea to keep the idea open.” 

Peter shook his head. “Mr. Stark -”

“Tony, I really don’t think Stone would buy something like this from a crime boss like Fisk,” Bruce said. 

“But that’s the issue; we don’t even know what _ this _ is,” Tony answered. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t worry about it, then, until we know for sure what these people were trying to buy,” Bruce suggested. “All we have right now is a vibranium box that we can’t x-ray, or open.”

“People would pay that much for vibranium alone,” Tony told him. “You know that.” 

“Mr. Stark!” 

“Jeez, kid, _ what?” _ Tony demanded, turning around on the stool to look at Peter. He blinked when he saw how pale he was, and noticed that he was shaking. Concerned, he backtracked, and said, more gently, “Pete? What’s going on?” 

Peter closed his eyes, breathing rapidly. “Stone used to work for Horizon Labs. Right?”

“Uh… yeah, once upon a time, before he started Viastone,” Tony agreed, frowning. “Why?”

Peter swallowed against the knot in his throat. “Horizon Labs is where I… got bit,” he managed. “By the spider that… gave me my powers.” 

Tony’s eyes widened, and he looked over at Bruce, who was frowning. “You’re sure?” he asked, carefully..

“Of course I am,” Peter said hotly. “I was there for a field trip, and it - I think I know my _ origin story.” _

“Okay, calm down,” Tony said, holding up his hands and standing. He walked towards Peter. “Do you know which scientist was responsible?” 

“No,” Peter said, turning away. “I figured it didn’t matter, and it doesn’t, not at this point. I just… I just thought I’d tell you, in case Stone _ is _ involved, and might know… some of the things I can do. Fisk did some business deals with Horizon a few years back; they helped build him repulsors, that killed my “sense incoming danger” thing, and it made it really difficult for me to deal with his guys, when I was trying to clean out his different hideouts.”

“So, Horizon knows they’re responsible for you,” Bruce clarified, “but do they know that you’re… you?”

“No,” Peter responded with a shake of his head. “It - I tried to keep tabs on things coming out of the labs, right after I was bit. There was a pretty big issue with the spiders; a lot of them escaped through the sewage system beneath the labs. I dealt with it before the spiders could reach the city, but intel said they think Spider-Man happened because of that.” 

Tony and Bruce exchanged another look. There was concern etched onto Bruce’s face, and Tony felt similarly. If these people could produce anti-Spider-Man tech, and they were somehow involved in this whole mess, there would be serious trouble. 

“Okay,” he said, turning back to Peter. “It’ll be fine. We have… no reason to think that Horizon is involved, even if Stone is, so until we _ do, _ we’re going to not panic about that. Okay?” 

Peter nodded. “I wasn’t panicking,” he said. His coloring had gone back to normal, and he was no longer shaking quite as bad. There was still a small quiver in his hands, but that was about it. Tony was painfully reminded of Stephen in that moment, and he cursed his brain for being stupid at such inopportune times. 

“First thing’s first,” he went on, forcing himself to focus. They all turned back to the box, and Tony straightened his shoulders. “Getting this thing x-rayed, so we can deal with what’s inside.”

**10:32 AM**

Steve sighed, studying the hologram phone that sat on the desk in his and Bucky’s suite. Bucky sat on the bed behind him, hands resting on his knees. 

“Are you gonna -?”

“I’m trying to figure out what to say,” Steve explained. “I don’t… what do I open with? “Hey, I know it’s been five years since we asked you to risk your homeland in a battle we ended up losing, and us losing meant you lost your king and princess, but we could use your help again, ‘cause we have a box made of stolen vibranium and we don’t know how to open it. Oh, and also, there’s probably some kind of weapon inside of it. Also stolen.” That’s not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky let out a breath of his own. “But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” he asked, and Steve’s shoulders fell. 

“Yes,” he said, “but it - I don’t even know what’s really going on with this situation. Tony barely told Sam and I anything -”

“Then you place the call, and let me do the talking,” Tony said, walking into the suite. 

“Sure, come in,” Bucky said, standing and crossing his arms, a frown on his face. 

“Thanks, Colossus,” Tony said, and he paused behind Steve’s desk chair. “Go ahead. I can explain the situation to them, once you get through the pleasantries.”

Steve studied him for a moment, before glancing at Bucky, who merely raised his shoulders in response. Steve rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, but turned around to face the phone. He tapped a specific button on the base of it, and at once a holographic screen appeared above it. It flickered several times as the line rang. 

Behind him, Tony hummed, thoughtfully. “Must be busy,” he said, and Steve gave him a sour look. Tony spread his hands. “What? It’s not like we’re in a rush or anything, of course not.”

“Stop it,” Steve muttered, and he turned back to the screen. After a couple more flickers, an image finally appeared, and Steve relaxed, seeing the familiar face. 

“General Okoye,” he said, relieved. 

“Captain Rogers,” the general replied, dipping her head. “We have not heard from you in quite some time.”

“Well, with everything resolved, it was best to let everyone get back to their normal lives,” Steve said. “However, we’ve… we’ve encountered a problem that we think you may be able to help us with.”

Okoye’s neutral expression faded, slightly. “The last time you asked for our help, things did not end well,” she said. 

“I know, but, thankfully, this time, it has nothing to do with an alien wanting to destroy the universe,” Steve assured her. “It has to do with vibranium.”

“Vibranium?” Okoye frowned. “What do you mean?”

“All right, Cap, scoot over, let me talk to the nice general,” Tony said, stepping forward and nudging Steve out of the way with his hip. “Hey, General, Tony Stark, you might remember me from… something, I don’t know if we ever formally met.”

“We have not,” Okoye replied coolly, “but believe me, I know who you are.”

“Many do,” Tony agreed. “So, here’s the situation: we’ve obtained a potentially very dangerous weapon, that is currently encased in a vibranium container. We haven’t been able to x-ray it or get the container open, so we have no idea what the weapon actually is. We were hoping that your expertise with vibranium could help us get it open.”

Steve hung his head between his hands, exasperated. He could hear Bucky grumbling, sharing his frustration. Charismatic or not, Tony Stark did _ not _ understand how to speak to strangers. 

Okoye, however, did not waste time. Rather than react to Tony’s brusque explanation, she said, “How did this vibranium come into your possession?”

“One of ours was dealing with a crime boss, who was going to sell it. The weapon too, please remember that there is a potentially _ very dangerous _ weapon involved in this,” Tony replied. 

Okoye did not speak for a moment. “Who is this crime boss?” she finally asked. 

“His name is Richard Fisk,” Tony said, “although he’s not really the head of the business. That’s his father, Wilson, but he’s been in prison for about six months, not that that excludes him from being involved.”

Okoye’s shoulders rose and fell. “It does not seem appropriate to inform the king of this,” she said, “considering. However… a shipment of vibranium out of Wakanda was hijacked, several weeks ago.” 

“Yeah, I saw that,” Tony said, recalling the news report he’d read and wondering why he hadn’t thought of it again, until she’d mentioned it just now. “How much was stolen?” 

“Not as much as has been reported,” Okoye replied. “Thankfully. But we lost several units of it. The box you have may have been crafted from what was stolen.” She paused again, looking off to the side of the image, and then she nodded and turned back to him. “One moment.”

She disappeared from view, and Tony turned towards Steve, a little haughty. “See? Easy as pie.”

“We’re not through it yet, Tony,” Steve replied, arms crossed. “This is already stretching further than we expected. If the vibranium we have is connected to what was stolen, we might be able to help them find the rest of it.”

“Which we’ll totally do,” Tony said, “after they help us get the box open, and we can deal with the first issue.”

“Mr. Stark.” 

Tony turned back to the hologram, and offered a slight bow to the figure that was now pictured there. “King T’Challa,” he greeted, straightening up. “Nice to see you again.”

“The sentiment is returned,” T’Challa replied. He looked very king-ly. “My general has said you have a matter that requires my attention?” 

“Yes, I think so.” Tony rehashed everything he’d told Okoye, and saw T’Challa’s expression become more and more serious as he listened. When Tony was done, the King of Wakanda let out a breath. 

“This is… fairly serious,” he conceded. “Have you attempted to get the box open?”

“We’ve taken a few goes at it,” Tony said, “but we’ve stopped trying. We’d rather know what’s inside of it, first, I think.”

T’Challa nodded in agreement. “We can help with that. However, it would require the transport of the box to our own laboratories, here in Wakanda.” 

Tony exchanged a glance with Steve, who’d stepped up beside him, arms crossed. “We can do that,” Tony said after a moment. “There’s steps that we’ll need to take, but we could be there within the week.”

“Mr. Stark, if we were to help you with this, we’d ask that you would consider assisting us in finding the remainder of the stolen vibranium that was lost from our ship,” T’Challa said. 

“Of course,” Tony replied, with a shrug. “Aside from this mess, we’ve been a bit lacking in superhero duties. I think we’d all be excited to get our hands on something as big a mission to retrieve stolen vibranium.” 

“You joke, Mr. Stark, but that vibranium was meant to supply aid to a group of villages suffering from the attacks of a terrorist group,” T’Challa told him. 

“I wasn’t joking,” Tony answered. “I know it comes across that way, sometimes, but usually everything I say is completely serious.” 

T’Challa didn’t look convinced, and next to him, Steve was shaking his head. All the same, Tony leaned forward, slightly. “But we will help,” he said, “especially if the vibranium the box is made of can help trace back to wherever the rest might be.”

“It may,” T’Challa said. “We will be expecting your arrival.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Steve said, speaking up. “We appreciate this.”

“Believe me when I say that we will appreciate having that vibranium back even more, Captain Rogers,” T’Challa returned, and then the call ended. 

Tony’s shoulders fell, and he turned to look at Steve. “Not so bad,” he said. “Guess we’re going to Wakanda.”

“We are?” Sam asked, poking his head into the room. All three of them looked at him. Tony frowned. 

“No, not you,” he said. “We need someone here to keep an eye on things.” He glanced at Steve. “I’ll actually probably just… go alone.”

“Tony, that’s not a good idea,” Steve said. 

“It would be easiest,” Tony argued. 

“If they need our help finding the rest of the vibranium, we’ll need more than just you on that side of the pond,” Steve retorted. 

“But we also need people here.” Tony studied the floor for a moment, running different grouping scenarios in his head. Finally, he sighed outwards, and looked up again. “All right, the best case, I figure, is if I bring Peter along with me. We’ll be able to move quicker than anyone else, and looking for vibranium is probably going to require travel. And we might need Peter’s subtlety.” He paused, and then admitted, “Although I’d rather not involve him at all, he involved himself by picking up the box. He wouldn’t let me leave him out of the rest of it.”

“And he shouldn’t have to be left out,” Steve agreed. “Anyone else?” 

Tony exhaled. “I’m tempted to say Bruce, for research purposes, but he won’t want to leave New York, not while they’re looking for a house.” 

“I’ll go,” Bucky said, and they both turned to him. 

“Buck, you don’t have to,” Steve said. 

“They might need… extra muscle,” Bucky said with a shrug. “And I arguably know Wakanda better than anyone else here.” He looked at Tony, nodding slightly. “I could be an asset.”

“Yeah, for once, I agree with you,” Tony said. “All right, I think that’s good. We can call more of you in if necessary, but we won’t know until we can do some recon. We’ll solidify it later on, and hopefully be out of here by tomorrow night, at the latest.”

“Right, uh, do you plan on talking to the guy moping in the kitchen downstairs between now and then, or are we going to be stuck with him while you’re gone?” Sam questioned, opening the door to the room a little bit wider. 

“He’s still down there?” Tony asked, genuinely surprised. He also felt the smallest flutter of warmth in his chest that he desperately hoped was indicative of a heart attack rather than emotion. 

“Yeah - wait, you _ knew?” _ Sam demanded, but Tony was already brushing past him out of the suite, to get to the elevator. 

He pressed the button for the second floor and spent the ten second ride wondering how best to approach this situation. Obviously, Stephen meant to take this seriously, since he’d _ stayed. _ Tony hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t even allowed himself to think of what would happen if he _ had _ stayed, because he wasn’t _ supposed _ to. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as the elevator doors slid open. 

Slowly, he stepped out and walked down the hall to the kitchen entrance. He peeked inside, and, yep, there was Stephen, still sitting in the same place he had been over a half-hour prior. _ Stupid stubborn man, _ Tony thought, a little bitterly. That warm feeling was back too, however. _ Please be a heart attack. Let me collapse right here, so that I don’t have to have this conversation. _

Unfortunately, the one time Tony would have liked a bad thing to happen to him, the universe was not willing. He remained upright, and it was becoming more and more clear that the warmth in his chest was meant to represent something good. 

Sighing, he entered the kitchen. 

Stephen glanced up. “Hey,” he greeted, rising, finally. Tony had to wonder how long he’d been sitting on that bar stool. “Did you figure it out?” 

“For the most part,” Tony replied. “It turns out we’re going to have to head over to Wakanda, so that they can help us get the box open, and then we think the vibranium came from a stolen shipment, and so they’re asking us to find the rest of the vibranium that was taken.” He shrugged. “So. We have a plan, if nothing else.”

“You’re going to Wakanda,” Stephen said after a moment, and Tony nodded. “Oh. When?” 

“We’ll probably leave no later than tomorrow night,” Tony answered, slipping his hands into his pockets. God, he really needed to shower and change his clothes. “I’m probably going to bring Peter with me, if he’s willing.”

“Even though Cheri’s recovering from a head injury?” 

“She’s strong,” Tony said, “and there are plenty of people here who will keep an eye on her.” He glanced off to the side. “So.”

“So,” Stephen repeated, crossing his arms. “I waited.”

“I see that,” Tony agreed. He exhaled. “Uh -”

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s brow furrowed, and he looked back at Stephen. The doctor nodded. “I - the conversation from last night was handled poorly, and that was mostly my fault. It was… it was a topic that should have been discussed in a less stressful environment.” He gestured. “Now, with you planning to leave the country for an indeterminable amount of time… perhaps it should wait.”

Tony hesitated a moment before giving him a single nod. “That seems like the smartest choice, yeah,” he said. “I don’t… you were right, when you said that I hadn’t really let you in, and it’s because I haven’t needed to do that for anyone, in a long time.” He lifted his shoulders. “But if… if there was anyone I’d be willing to try to do it for, it’d probably be you, so.”

Stephen smiled, slightly. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “So… when you get back… we can start with that. And if you’re curious, I could tell you about my… search for magic.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, hearing the laughter in his voice. “You’d think you’d take such a topic more seriously, Master of the Mystic Arts,” he teased. “Considering.”

Stephen chuckled, and rested his arm on the counter top. “Believe me, it’s a lot more serious when I tell it,” he assured. “It’s close to sitting through a documentary.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that I actually find documentaries very interesting,” Tony replied, returning the smile Stephen offered him. They gazed at one another for a moment, and then Tony cursed under his breath, and ran his hand through his hair. “I almost don’t want to go to Wakanda, now.”

Stephen moved away from the island, and to where he still stood near the kitchen entrance. “Don’t worry,” he said, slipping his arms around Tony’s waist. “I’ll still be waiting when you get back.”

“Yeah, I’m finding that you’re very good at waiting,” Tony agreed, having to look up, which he knew Stephen just _ loved. _ “Patience is a virtue.”

“One I imagine you never learned,” Stephen said. 

“Oh, God no, who has the time?” Tony replied, which caused Stephen to laugh again. Tony grinned, and leaned up a little, pressing his lips to the doctor’s. He withdrew after a moment, and murmured, “My goal, beyond the whole figuring out what dangerous weapon we have in a vibranium box and finding the rest of the stolen shipment of vibranium thing, during this trip -” 

“Mhm?” Stephen prompted, smirking. 

“- will be to make you miss me _ desperately,” _ Tony finished. 

Stephen’s eyes flashed. “That probably won’t be difficult, considering you’re standing right in front of me, and I’m already imagining not getting a random call at one in the morning from you saying that I’d better “teleport” myself to your office, and am very disappointed by the idea.” 

“Well. I could call you at one in the morning from Wakanda and tell you that you need to teleport yourself there instead,” Tony suggested. “After all, you are a wizard and can literally transport yourself to different universes whenever you like. A trip from New York to Wakanda should be nothing.”

Stephen smiled. “I have to be able to picture the place perfectly,” he said, “and unfortunately, I’ve never been to Wakanda.”

“Damn,” Tony sighed. “What about if I send you a picture? Does that work?” 

“Yes,” Stephen said after a moment. 

“Oh, good. I’ll be taking advantage of that,” Tony assured him. 

“Mm, but don’t you think it would be better if we _ don’t _ do things like that until we have those conversations we were just talking about?” 

“Ugh.” Tony rested his forehead on Stephen’s shoulder. “Why do you have to be such an _ adult _ all the time?” 

Stephen chuckled. “Because I’d like for this relationship to be successful.” 

“Yeah, all right, that’s fair,” Tony agreed after a moment. He lifted his head again, and met Stephen’s gaze. “It’ll work, right?”

“If we can both be adults when it’s necessary, yes,” Stephen responded. “Which I think we _ are _ capable of.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. Stephen leaned down and kissed him again, and Tony sighed into it. “I can be an adult for that, I guess.”

“Good,” Stephen said. 

“Mr. Stark?” They broke apart at the inquiry from behind Tony, and he turned to see Peter standing in the hall, arms crossed. He tilted his head in the direction of his suite. “Cheri’s awake, and she wants to see you.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He cleared his throat, and nodded. “Right. I… yep.” He cast one final glance at Stephen before walking out of the kitchen. Peter stared at Stephen for a moment before following him. 

Stephen reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt, self-consciously. The boy’s death stare was something for the history books. Who would have thought a sweet kid like him could give such evil eyes? 

Though, Stephen supposed, if he cared for someone as much as Peter clearly cared for Tony, he thought he’d be able to muster up a death stare of similar caliber.

**10:50 AM**

“Hey,” Tony said, stepping into Peter’s suite. Cheri was sitting in the bed, propped up on three different pillows. “How’s the noggin?”

“Fine,” Cheri said. “If I turn my head too fast, I get really dizzy.”

“I bet,” he agreed. Peter stepped into the room behind him, closing the door about halfway. Cheri made a face. 

“Sorry, Pete,” she said, quietly, “but I was hoping that I could talk to Mr. Stark alone.”

“Oh,” Peter said, blinking. “Uh… yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just -”

“Hold on, kid,” Tony said. Peter paused, having already turned to leave the room. “I actually need to talk to you both, and then you and I can talk,” Tony went on, to Cheri, who was frowning. 

“What’re we all talking about?” she asked. 

Tony glanced at Peter, who lifted his eyebrows. After a moment, Tony sighed. “We have to go to Wakanda.” 

“Who’s we?” Tony gave him a meaningful look, and Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh. _ We _ have to go to Wakanda.” 

“You, me, and Barnes,” Tony confirmed. “They think that the vibranium we have is part of a shipment that was hijacked a few weeks ago, and in exchange for their help, they want us to help them find the rest of it.”

“Makes sense,” Peter agreed. “Wow, I’ve always wanted to see Wakanda, especially since they started their outreach program. The tech coming out of there is _ insane, _and -” He cut off, his expression shifting from elation to concern. He turned towards Cheri, who was watching him, a small smile on her face. 

“Cher,” Peter started, moving across the room to the bed. He sat down on the edge next to where she was, taking her hand in his. They gazed at one another for a moment, clearly having a silent conversation, before Peter’s shoulders fell, and he turned back to Tony. “Mr. Stark, I can’t go.”

“Yes, you can,” Cheri told him, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be all right. I’ll have Harry and Ned, unless you decide you want Ned to go with you.” She looked at Tony. “He’d be helpful to have around, and I imagine he wants to see the Wakandan labs just as badly as Peter does.”

“If he wants to come, he can,” Tony said with a shrug. Cheri nodded, and turned her gaze back to Peter. 

“Plus, my mom _ and _Abuela are here,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” 

He shook his head. “I worry about you,” he said. “Especially with your head. You don’t know a thing about taking time to make sure you heal properly; I saw as much with your ankle. And Harry’s no better.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Peter,” Cheri said, taking her hand from his to touch the edge of his jaw with her fingertips. “It’s a superhero thing, and a great opportunity for you and Ned to see this tech that you’ve been talking about for years up close.” She met his eyes. “You absolutely have to go. I won’t let you _ not _ go.”

Peter gazed at her for several long seconds. “You’ll take care of yourself?” he finally asked, and Cheri nodded. “And if you _ know _ that you can’t, you won’t go back to school as soon as they remove your stitches. Right?”

“I’ll be _ fine,” _ Cheri repeated. She looked at Tony again. “Tell him.”

“She will be,” Tony said. “Bruce is staying here, so if there’s an emergency, she can call him. And… y’know, Stephen too. And Steve. They’ll all be here. But she’s right in saying that her mom and grandmother will be here; they won’t let her do anything stupid.” 

“Unless she doesn’t _ tell _ them about it,” Peter mumbled, studying Cheri’s face. She did her best to look sincere, because she knew if she smiled or anything else, he’d think she was lying. After a moment, he made a face. “Fine. But I’m calling you every day.”

“If you must,” Cheri said, finally allowing herself to grin. “Now can I talk to Mr. Stark?” 

Peter sighed, but nodded, and stood up again. He walked back across the room to the door. “We’ll talk more after,” Tony said as he passed, and then he waited until Peter had exited the room before turning back to Cheri. “What’s up?” 

“I wanted to say thank you,” she responded. 

“For what?” he asked, frowning. 

“For being there, last night,” Cheri said. “You came right away, and if you hadn’t, Peter wouldn’t have been able to go after Felicia, and the whole thing would have been pointless.” She shrugged. “You were able to take me to the hospital, and Peter was able to finish the job, so… thanks. And thanks for making sure I didn’t, like, bleed out. The nurses mentioned that you’d wrapped part of your shirt around my head.” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to fly you at dangerous speeds to the hospital with an open wound in the back of your head,” Tony said with a shrug. “A bug could’ve flown in there or something.” Cheri wrinkled her nose, and he grinned. “But you’re welcome. Dunno if you’ve noticed, but you’re pretty important to my kid, so when it’s up to me to take care of you, then I’m going to, for him.”

“Fair enough,” Cheri said with a smile of her own. “When do you leave for Wakanda?”

“Hopefully by tomorrow night.”

She blinked. “So soon.”

“Yeah, well, we need to get this weapon thing taken care of, and the vibranium’s been missing for a couple of weeks, already,” he said. “It’s better we get started as soon as possible, and hopefully, we’ll be able to come home sooner rather than later.”

“Well, I’d definitely prefer that,” Cheri admitted, and she sighed a little. “All right, tomorrow.” She glanced at him again. “You have to take him with you, huh?”

“I have a feeling his skill set will be useful, yes,” Tony answered, crossing his arms. “Are you telling me that whole thing just now was a front?”

“No,” Cheri said. “I do want him to be able to go see the technology and stuff in Wakanda, I just wish he wasn’t… going there on a mission.”

“Ah.” Tony nodded. “Yeah. I can understand that. But he’ll be all right, I promise.” 

“I hope so,” Cheri murmured. She inhaled, and sat up a bit straighter. “I need better food than the crap the hospital fed me.” She started to get out of bed, and Tony took a step forward, but she waved him off, lifting herself into a standing position on her own. She stood still for a moment, eyes closed, and then nodded to herself. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, frowning.

“Yeah.” She took one step, and then another. Tony did not move backwards, watching carefully as she made her way across the room to where he stood. She paused next to him, and smiled a little, meeting his gaze. “See? Gotta start somewhere.”

“True,” Tony said, “but my _ God, _ you’ve had stitches in your head for maybe fourteen hours. Take it easy.” Cheri laughed, and Tony held the door open for her as she stepped out of the suite. “Honestly, no wonder Peter worries.”

“Did you talk to my mom, last night?” she asked as they headed down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Yes,” Tony said. “She said she stared working today.”

“Right! Shoot.” Cheri patted her clothes down, before realizing that she was definitely not wearing anything that could have held her phone, and she sighed. “I should call her and wish her luck.”

“I have your phone,” Peter said, sticking his head out of the kitchen. “Why are you walking around?”

“I’m hungry,” Cheri answered, moving past him into the kitchen. Tony leaned against the archway, watching as she pulled open the fridge and studied the interior, while simultaneously holding out her hand. “Phone, please.”

Peter passed it over, frowning at Tony, who lifted his shoulders in response, smiling a little. Cheri tapped at her phone screen without looking at it too much. “You have a headache,” Peter observed, turning his frown to her. 

“Yes, duh,” Cheri said, “but it’ll go away if I eat some real food.” She gestured. “Can you grab the bread?” 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Tony said. “Pete, come find me later, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Peter replied, eyes on Cheri as he handed her the bread he’d pulled down from the top of the fridge. 

“You can stop watching me like I’m about to fall over,” Cheri told him as Tony left the kitchen. “I mean it; I can stand for the three minutes it’ll take me to make a sandwich.” 

Peter did not look convinced, but all the same he moved around to the other side of the island and settled down on a bar stool. Cheri lifted her phone to her ear as she opened a bottle of mayonnaise. _ “Hola, Máma. ¿Como estas?” _

Peter watched her go about making a sandwich while she talked to her mother on the phone. If he hadn’t known about the stitches holding the back of her head closed, he would have thought it was merely a normal visit to the Compound. Still, knowing what he did, on top of knowing that he himself would be leaving for another country in the coming days… it was difficult to pretend. 

The conversation Cheri had with her mother was brief. When she was done, she slid her phone across the island to where Peter sat. “So I’m not tempted to use it,” she explained, putting the second piece of bread on top of the sandwich. She then took a bite out of it, and Peter smiled a little, sliding her phone away into his pocket. 

“Good?” he asked, and she nodded, swallowing. 

“Much better than hospital breakfast.”

“All right,” he said. “You finish that, and then we’ll get you into the bath, because… I think we both need one.” He sniffed his shirt, and nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”

Cheri laughed. “God, I don’t even want to know,” she admitted, and then lifted her eyebrow suggestively. “Are we taking a bath together?” 

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Sorry, but that is the furthest thing from a good idea.”

Cheri clicked her tongue in disappointment. “You’re no fun,” she said, and took another bite of her sandwich. 

Peter watched her eat for a moment, and then said, “I’ll take you back to the apartment later today, and we’ll tell Harry and Ned what’s going on.” Cheri nodded in agreement. “I don’t really know when Mr. Stark plans to leave.”

“Tomorrow night, he said,” Cheri replied, popping the last bit of sandwich into her mouth. “Which means we should head back to the apartment before dinner, so that you’ll have tonight to pack and stuff.” She frowned a little, recalling what his suit had looked like, the evening before. “What are you going to do about your suit?” 

“I’ll fix it up while I’m here,” he said. “It’s just some tears, nothing that can’t be repaired easily.” She nodded, and finished cleaning up after herself. Peter drummed on the counter top. “You ready?” 

“Yeah,” Cheri replied, and her eyes brightened hopefully. “Can I have bubbles?” 

“I will give you all the bubbles in the world,” Peter promised. He walked around the island and scooped her up. Cheri didn’t bother protesting, and instead slid her arms around his neck. 

“Mm,” she hummed, thoughtfully, as he carried her back towards his suite. “Maybe I should get hurt more often. I kind of like being carried around by you.”

“It works out, then, ‘cause I like carrying you around,” Peter said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My poor girlfriend with her head boo boo.”

“I have a bad head boo boo,” Cheri agreed, her lower lip sticking out slightly in a pout. “But I earned it.”

“Unfortunately,” Peter admitted with a sigh. “But we’re not going to talk about that.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Cheri said, quietly. 

He set her down on the counter in his suite’s bathroom, and then went about getting a bath ready for her. He slipped out of the room, to retrieve some of his spare clothing from the closet. When he returned, Cheri glanced at him. 

“Pete?”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to miss you.” 

He paused in what he was doing, and looked at her. “I’ll miss you, too,” he said, setting down the clothes and walking back over to where she sat on the counter. He stepped into the space between her legs, which she crossed at the ankles behind his back, and draped her arms around his shoulders. 

Peter gazed at her, smiling a little. “I’ll be back before you know it. Okay?” 

Cheri returned the smile, and nodded. “Okay.” She leaned forward, and kissed him, gently. Behind him, the bath automatically shut off, and she grinned into the kiss. “Bathroom AI.”

“Helpful sometimes. Other times, it’s a little creepy,” Peter said. “All the same, your bubbles await.” He helped her down from the counter, and Cheri sighed a little despondently. 

“I wish our apartment had a bathtub.”

“So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went camping for the first time. It was okay.


	72. Last Night Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Cheri return home the night before the Avengers head to Wakanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chrome extension that allows for picture-in-picture on videos is one of the best technological advancements I've ever used.

**January 25th, 2024 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 6:27 PM**

“Ah, _ mon _Cheri!” Harry said as Cheri and Peter walked into the apartment, from where he sat on the couch, watching the TV. He turned it off and stood up, limping over to them. “How’s your head?”

“Busted,” Cheri answered, grinning back. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” he asked, throwing up his hands in a dramatic fashion. 

“You get to babysit me for the foreseeable future!” Cheri told him, clapping. 

Harry’s smile faded, and he looked at Peter in confusion. Peter nodded, closing the apartment door. “Yeah, I’ve got some business that’s taking me out of the country, and I’m assuming Ned wants to come with me, so -”

“Ned wants to come with you? Where? Where are we going?” Ned poked his head out of his bedroom down the hall. 

Peter prepared himself for what was sure to be an overreaction. “Wakanda.” 

_ “Wakanda!” _ Ned burst out of his room and hurried into the main room, eyes wide with excitement. “Like, _ the _ Wakanda? The Wakanda that invented the limitless range communication devices with _ built-in _ audio surveillance systems that I’ve been trying to figure out since I found out you were Spider-Man?” 

“Yep,” Peter replied. He was unable to keep from smiling at Ned’s enthusiasm. “I figured you’d want to come, but we’re not going there to mess around, we’ll be there on a mission.” 

“Right, of course,” Ned said, although he was still bouncing up and down quite a bit. “Man, _ Wakanda. _ Ooh! Do you think we’ll get to meet Princess Shuri?” 

“I imagine,” Peter said. “And if we do, _ please, _ for the love of God, be cool.” 

Ned scoffed, and leaned his elbow on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m always cool, Peter.” 

“Hah,” Cheri said, without humor, and she glanced at Peter. “I am going to go lay down.”

“Right,” he agreed, moving out of her way to provide a clear path to the hall. “Good idea. I’ll be right there.” He watched her walk away down the hall and disappear into their bedroom, before he turned to Ned. “We’re leaving tomorrow, so you should probably go pack.” 

“Right.” Ned turned and hurried off. “We’re going to_ Wakanda!” _ he cheered. 

Peter shook his head, amused, and then glanced at Harry. “I’m sorry to leave you here with her.”

“Ah, it’s all right,” Harry said, shrugging. “I was taking care of her for years before we even met you, so.” 

“That’s true,” Peter agreed with a smile. “I trust you. Don’t let her take on too much before she’s actually healed, okay? Uh… I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, but we’re supposed to go get her stitches checked next week…”

“I’ve got it, Peter,” Harry assured. “I’ll make sure everything’s good on this end. You should focus on whatever it is you’ll be dealing with over there.” 

“Right.”

“Because if your mind spends too much time in two places at once, you’ll burn yourself out, and we’ve seen how bad _ that _ is,” Harry concluded. 

Peter nodded. “You’re right. And if you need help, her mom and _ abuela _ are closeby, so it’s not like I’m really leaving you _ alone _-”

“Peter.” He cut himself off, and looked at Harry. His friend was smiling. “We’ll be fine.”

“I know, I know, I just…” He inhaled, and slid his hands into his pockets, making a decision that had been plaguing him since before Christmas. “Harry, will you come with me to do something important, tomorrow morning?” 

Harry frowned. “What is it?” 

“Just… something I want to take care of, before I leave,” Peter answered. “Will you come?”

Harry studied his face for a second. “Of course, dude,” he finally said. “If it’s that important.”

“It’s super important,” Peter confirmed. “And it needs to stay a secret.” 

“I can keep one of those,” Harry said, glancing down. 

“Yeah, but this is a good secret,” Peter said, smiling a little. He reached out and patted Harry’s shoulder. “We’ll need to get up early.”

Harry looked up again, nose wrinkled. “Really? Ew.”

Peter laughed. “Sorry, but we’ll want to head to the Compound by noon, so early it is.” He tilted his head. “You can handle it, right?” 

Harry released a long despairing sigh. “For you? I mean, I guess.” Peter chuckled, and Harry offered him a grin, then gestured towards the kitchen. “Should we get some food started for the children?” 

“I suppose. Not that I know what we’ll be able to cook without burning it,” Peter responded. They were both silent for a moment, and then looked at one another. 

“Ramen,” they said together, and headed for the kitchen. 

**11:31 PM**

Peter studied the mask he held in his hands, frowning. It probably wasn’t a good idea, to head out into the city for some Spider-Man work, but he couldn’t help but feel he’d regret it if he didn’t. After all, he could sleep on the trip to Wakanda, and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t gone over twenty four hours without sleep before. 

“Pete?” 

His shoulders fell. Yet another reason he didn’t necessarily want to head into the city. He turned to look at Cheri, who was propped up in their bed. She smiled sleepily at him, gesturing to the mask. “You going to go?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I feel like I should, but at the same time, I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I’ll be exhausted, tomorrow, especially after the night we had yesterday.”

“Mm.” She adjusted the pillow she was leaning against. “You don’t know when you’ll be back in New York, though.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He sighed, and then blinked. “Shoot, I should probably let the chief know I’m going out of town.” He pulled out his phone, and dialed Georgia Carr’s personal number, not letting himself think about what time it was, and whether or not she’d actually answer. The chief of the NYPD did pick up, after three rings. 

“Chief Carr.”

“Hey, Chief,” Peter started. “It’s Spider-Man.”

“Yes, I know that,” Georgia said, impatiently. “What is it?”

“Oh, uh… sorry, I know you’re super busy,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be dealing with an… out-of-country Avengers mission, for the next few days, possibly longer, and so I won’t be on-call in New York.”

“Fine,” Georgia said. “We’ll be spending a lot of resources searching for Richard Fisk over the next few weeks. We would have liked to have your help on the matter considering your history with the Fisk family, but an Avengers mission sounds more important.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal,” Peter replied, glancing sideways at Cheri. “If you haven’t managed to catch Fisk by the time I get back, I’ll definitely help out.”

“I’d hope so, considering you were the one who let him get away last night,” Georgia said. “Enjoy your trip out of the country, Spider-Man.” 

With that, she ended the call, and Peter lowered his phone, frowning down at it. He looked at Cheri again, who was still smiling. Those pain meds were something else. 

“I think the chief just… dissed me,” he said. 

Cheri chuckled. “Sucks.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Probably means I should stay off the streets tonight, let the NYPD handle it.” 

“Maybe,” Cheri agreed. She flipped back the edge of the covers on their bed, and gestured to the spot next to her. “Come sleep.” 

Peter sighed, but all the same changed into a new pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt, before climbing into bed beside her. Cheri hummed happily, curling up into his side as best she could, considering the injury on her head. Peter placed a kiss on her forehead, and reached over to turn out the light. 

For a long while, the room was silent. Peter heard Cheri’s breathing even out into its sleeping pattern, which he recognized very easily by this point in their relationship. Although he wanted to fall asleep as well, his mind would not stop racing. There were a lot of things to think about, not limited to the fact that tomorrow, he’d be going to _ Wakanda. _

He’d been out of the country before, obviously, what with the Germany fiasco and a trip at the end of high school to a few other European countries (he and Ned had actually met Harry on that trip), but… Wakanda. He’d wanted to see the place that so much great tech had been coming out of for years, since their outreach program had begun. Hopefully he wouldn’t embarrass himself, if and when he was introduced to King T’Challa, and Princess Shuri. 

_ Oh God, am I supposed to bow? _

He opened his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling in the darkness of the bedroom. Beside him, Cheri slept on, oblivious to his struggle. He sighed a little. Maybe if he wouldn’t be sleeping, he _ should _get some things done out in the city. 

Quietly, he slipped out of bed, and walked across the room to where Mark I of his suit rested on top of the desk. He changed quickly, picking up his mask, and glanced briefly at Cheri’s sleeping form. She hadn’t moved since falling asleep. He smiled a little to himself, slipped his mask on, and crossed the room to the window. He slid it open, and then hopped outside, gently closing it again behind him. 

“Hey, Karen,” he greeted, adjusting his web shooters before using two webs to pull himself to the building across the street. 

“Hello Peter,” his AI returned. “I wasn’t sure I’d talk to you tonight.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I’d go out tonight, either,” he responded, sighing, “but I couldn’t sleep, so why waste the night? Anything on the radar nearby?” 

“Not nearby, necessarily,” Karen answered, and his HUD shifted to a map. His view centered on a blinking red dot near Midtown. “There’s a suspected robbery here, however.”

“On it,” Peter said, and headed that direction. 

It took him maybe ten minutes to swing there. By the time he landed on a building across the street from the bank that Karen had marked for him, however, the cops had already shown up. There were two cars parked outside the bank, their lights flashing. Peter quickly hopped down to the street, assuming that he’d need to help. 

He was about to push his way into the bank when two cops exited it, pushing along a pair of men dressed in black ahead of them. Peter moved out of their way, hopping up onto the side of the bank and watching as the cops shoved the men into the backseats of the cars. He waited until they’d shut the doors again before flipping back down onto the sidewalk. 

“You guys need any help?” he asked, and the cops looked at him. 

“Nah, we got it covered, Spider-Man,” one of them said. He patted the top of the car. “Guys weren’t much trouble.”

“Oh.” Peter took a step backwards. “Uhm. Okay. Good work.” 

“Have a good night,” the other cop said. 

“Yeah, you too,” Peter replied. He remained where he was for a moment before shaking his head to himself and swinging up to the top of the bank. He watched as the police cars drove away, and then he said, “What the hell?”

“That was a very quick response time on the part of the NYPD,” Karen said. 

“Yeah, it was,” Peter agreed. “Huh. Well, there’s probably something happening somewhere else, right? Maybe a drug bust? Or, like, a car chase?” 

Karen was silent for a moment, and Peter watched as the scanner in his HUD was activated. He waited, expecting to see flares pop up all over the city, but there were none. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” his AI began, “but there doesn’t seem to be any active crime at the moment.”

Peter blinked. “But it’s nighttime in Manhattan,” he said, carefully. 

“I can’t offer an explanation,” Karen said. “I can only tell you what I detect, which is nothing.” 

Peter examined the rooftop for a moment. “Well,” he said again. “I guess that means I can get some sleep after all?” 

“Yes,” Karen agreed. “Perhaps you should.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, quietly. “Uhm… well. Let’s… let’s head home, then.”

“Okay, Peter,” Karen replied. 

Peter took a moment to adjust his web shooters, before he sighed to himself, and aimed for a different building. 

As he swung back to lower Manhattan, to the apartment, he considered. He hadn’t been on the street the night Cheri was in the hospital. He didn’t know what the immediate effects of stopping Richard Fisk had been, but considering he hadn’t been caught, Peter could only assume they couldn’t have been too intense. It had only been a day, after all. 

But maybe that was just it. Without someone giving orders, pulling strings, maybe criminals were left reeling, with no direction. It could be that there hadn’t been any plans in place for major crime, and so there was none for him to worry about, and the police were able to deal with smaller matters on their own. 

Peter decided it wasn’t a big deal. No doubt by the time he returned from Wakanda, New York’s crime scene would be back in business, and he’d have _ too much _ to do. 

He was not looking forward to that whatsoever. 

At least, tonight, he had the chance to do some research before his trip with Harry tomorrow morning. 


	73. Time To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers head out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what secret mission Peter and Harry embarked on the morning of this chapter, head over to [Since You've Been Mine. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560448/chapters/48807287) You'll find it there under the chapter called "Yeah, this is the one." 
> 
> I'm sure everyone can guess based on that title alone.

**January 26th, 2024 - 8 Center Market Pl., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 11:21 AM**

Peter shoved the Mark I of his suit into his duffel bag, just in case he didn’t have the time to fix the Mark V while at the Compound, and then zipped it closed, before ducking out of his and Cheri’s bedroom into the main room of the apartment. Ned was already in there, leaning over the back of the couch and pointing to Harry’s laptop screen, which rested on Harry’s lap. They were having a heated debate about something, Peter noticed, but he did not try to listen in on what it was. 

Instead, after dropping his duffel onto the floor near the front door, he poked his head into the kitchen. Cheri was there, sitting on the counter, a bowl of cereal in her lap. Peter smiled, and stepped fully into the small space. 

“I guess this means you’ll be okay without my help, huh?” he asked. Cheri grinned, shrugging. 

“I feel better today,” she said. “Resting all day yesterday helped a lot, I think.” 

Peter nodded in agreement. “Don’t think this means you’re not still healing, though,” he told her. “Absolutely nothing crazy until you go get your stitches checked out, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Cheri said, rolling her eyes. 

“I just want to make sure you heal properly,” Peter explained. “That’s all.” 

Her expression softened. “I know that, too,” she said. She placed her bowl onto the counter beside her, and reached out for him. Peter stepped closer, putting his hands in hers. Cheri squeezed his, smiling. “I appreciate it, Queens, but I don’t want you worrying about me while you’re gone, okay? I can take care of myself, and I have plenty of people around who will also take care of me, if I decide that I don’t want the job anymore.”

Peter glanced between her eyes for a moment, before exhaling a breath and nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “I - yeah.” He leaned forward, and kissed her, gently. “I’ll still think about you,” he murmured, pulling back just a little, “but I won’t worry.” 

“That’s what matters, then,” Cheri said. “And if you _ didn’t _ think about me, I’d be pretty upset.”

Peter chuckled, and kissed her again. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” she replied. 

“Peter!” They separated at Ned’s call from the living room, and Peter sighed to himself in exasperation. Cheri smiled, and pulled him in for one more kiss before she slid off of the counter. She then led him by the hand out of the kitchen. 

Ned stood by the front door, hopping up and down. “Wakanda! Wakanda! Wakanda!” he chanted, backpack bouncing on his shoulders. Harry looked on disapprovingly from the couch. 

“Thank God you’re taking him with you,” he said after a moment to Peter. He rolled his eyes in response, putting a hand on Ned’s shoulder to stop his bouncing.

“Take care of Cheri, okay?” he said, and Harry nodded. 

“You can count on me.”

Peter turned to Cheri once more, and she leaned up, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Peter slid his own around her waist, breathing in the scent of her hair, carefully washed last night in order to avoid the stitches it concealed. She pulled back, and met his eyes. 

“Call me when you can, okay? Let me know that you got there safely.” 

“I will,” he assured. He leaned down for a final kiss, and then pulled away from her, picking up his own duffel bag and backpack. “Let’s go, Ned.”

“Yes!” Ned said happily, leading the way out of the apartment. “Wakanda! Wakanda! Wakanda!”

“If you keep chanting that, I’m going to leave you here,” Peter warned him, meeting Cheri’s eyes one last time before he closed the door behind him. She smiled slightly, and lifted her hand in farewell. 

Once the door was closed, she exhaled a breath, and turned around to look at Harry. He was studying his laptop again. After a moment, she walked across the room, and sat down on the couch beside him with a heavy exhalation. He glanced briefly at her, before returning his attention to his laptop. 

“Are you going to start crying?” he asked. 

“What? No,” Cheri said, scoffing a little. She crossed her arms, and studied the black screen of the TV. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. 

Finally, though, Harry let out a sigh, and closed the lid of his laptop. He set it down on the coffee table, and turned to look at her head on. Cheri frowned at him. 

“What?” 

“Do you need me to entertain you?” 

“No,” she said. “Why would you think that? Just because I’m not allowed to look at screens, or like, sit upright for too long if I start to get tired… that doesn’t mean I can’t find ways to entertain myself.” She snorted. “Pfft.”

“Cheri.”

Sighing, she slumped her shoulders. “I’m very bored, please think of something we can do that won’t make my head hurt.”

Harry rolled his gaze upwards to the ceiling for a moment. “Uh… we could… play a board game?” 

Cheri lifted her eyebrows. “A _ board game?” _

“Well, I don’t know! A lot of the things I’d suggest normally involve screens!” Harry retorted, throwing up his hands. 

Cheri huffed. “Never mind,” she said. “Where did you and Peter go so early this morning?”

“No where.”

“Harry.”

“Ugh.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “It wasn’t that big a deal. He just had something to take care of before he left, that’s all.” 

Cheri studied him, looking for a tell, but there were none. Harry was telling enough of the truth that she couldn’t accuse him of lying. He just wasn’t telling her the _ whole _ truth.

“Fine,” she said. “Keep your secrets, whatever.” 

“We could take turns reading a book,” Harry said, after a moment of silence. “Like, you can read a page, and then I’ll read a page, and at the end of the chapter we have to, like, put the pages we read together to make sense of it all.”

Cheri offered him a long-suffering look in response. “I can’t believe you just suggested that as, like, a legitimate option,” she said, flatly.

“Fine, then what do _ you _ want to do?” he demanded. 

“I _ want _ to be able to do something I’d normally do, but I can’t because I have a friggin’ hole in my head that makes me tired if I look at a screen for too long!” Cheri snapped in response. 

“I cannot help you if you aren’t willing to help yourself,” Harry informed her. 

“You suck as a caregiver,” Cheri said, standing up. “I guess I’ll go _ take a nap, _ then. Tit.”

“Shrew,” he tossed back, reaching for his laptop once more. 

Cheri shook her head to herself, more exasperated than anything else, and went to do as she said she would. Let Harry deal with the bowl she’d left in the kitchen, she decided. _ Punk. _

**New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA, - 6:32 PM**

“Here’s the deal,” Tony said, pausing in front of the entrance to the Compound’s private aircraft hangar, stationed right next to the runway. Both things were newer additions, built in the last five years. No one on the Compound had had much reason to use either, but Tony had thought they were a good thing to have, considering SHIELD didn’t provide transport for the Avengers anymore, and, like, who knew when they’d have to go to space or whatever again? 

Hopefully they’d _ never _ have to go into space again, but… just in case. 

He turned to face the people behind him. Peter, Ned, Bucky, and Steve, who did not carry any luggage, but had come to see them off. Peter had his head tilted backwards, gazing up at the high ceiling of the hangar. Tony had forgotten that the kid had never seen it this close.

“We’re heading to Wakanda,” Tony went on. “Flight should take about eight hours, give or take, depending on different conditions that I could give less of a shit about it. As such, we’ll get there pretty early tomorrow morning _ our _ time, but six hours ahead of that _ their _ time. Fully expect to be jet lagged.” 

“Tony,” Steve said, frowning at him. 

“Keep your pants on, I’m getting to the important stuff,” Tony said, holding up his hands. He turned to look at Peter and Ned specifically. “We’ll meet immediately with King T’Challa. Don’t kneel, it’s weird. You can bow, but like, not for too long. And don’t address him directly. That should be obvious, though.”

“And after that?” Ned asked, eyes bright with anticipation. 

“After that, we’ll probably get started on getting our friend the box open,” Tony replied, “but we won’t know for sure until we get there.” Ned opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could, Tony went on: “I don’t know when we’ll have time to explore, _ if _ we even get that time. Not that we need to worry about it, considering we’re going to Wakanda on a _ mission.” _

Ned’s mouth closed again, and Peter smiled a little. Tony glanced between the two of them for a moment longer, and then he nodded. “Okay. I suggest getting some sleep on the flight; the seats recline _ all _ the way back. Alcohol will be served. Let’s head out, crew.”

He turned and started towards the jet inside the hangar. Ned hurried after him, and Peter followed at a much slower pace. Bucky lingered behind with Steve for a moment. 

“Be careful,” Steve said. “And keep me updated. I doubt Tony will.”

Bucky nodded his agreement. “We’ll be back soon,” he assured. 

Steve reached out and cupped the back of his neck for a moment, before leaning in and kissing him, lightly. Bucky smiled, then turned and headed for the jet as well. Steve backed out of the way a safe distance, and watched as they all boarded the aircraft. A few moments later, the jet purred quietly as it was started. It coasted out of the hangar and onto the runway, steadily picking up speed. Within seconds, it was airborne, and in even less time than that, it was little more than a speck against the sky, among the clouds. 

Steve sighed to himself, and silently prayed that everything would go smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Soft™ Stucky moments.They're my favorite kind.


	74. Welcome To Wakanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three heroes and one Guy in the Chair arrive in Wakanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Considering the changes made on AO3 recently, I've seen a pretty severe decrease in average hits between chapters on my works, so if you're a user who's logged out, could ya leave behind some kind of hint that you were here? A simple kudos would be nice, but I always appreciate a comment, too. The same goes for other works you read on here; all of us authors are wanting to continue to supply things to read during these strange times, but I know that I'll stop if I think I'm posting for no one, so if you could do me a solid, and let me know you're still here by interacting with the story in other ways, I'd really be grateful.

**January 27th, 2024 - The Citadel - Kingdom of Wakanda, Africa - 8:21 AM**

Ned spun around in a slow circle, taking in the huge room that they had been led to after disembarking from their jet outside the Citadel. His mouth was agape, and Peter, who was doing his best to be as professional as possible, didn’t exactly blame him for it. They’d only been in Wakanda for maybe ten minutes, and already he’d seen three different types of technological advances he’d only dreamed about. 

“Hey, Ned, you should probably close your mouth before a bug flies in there,” Tony suggested, setting down the suitcase he was carrying. 

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s so awesome,” Ned responded, voice hushed. “Even more than I’d thought it would be.”

“Professionalism, please,” Tony said, although his tone was light. “We’re here on business, like I’ve said.”

“Right. Business.” Ned squared his shoulders a little, and Peter hid a smile, pulling out his phone, and finding that he had full service. He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he felt. 

“Welcome to Wakanda.” Peter quickly put his phone away as doors on the other side of the room opened. Through them walked King T’Challa, dressed for the day, and looking much more awake than Peter knew anyone in his group did. He was flanked by four different members of the Dora Milaje, and Peter recognized one of them to be their general, Okoye. 

“King T’Challa,” Tony said, and he dipped into a small bow. Peter quickly followed his lead, and Ned did the same. King T’Challa closed the distance between them, and smiled, holding out his hand to Bucky. 

“Sergeant Barnes,” he said, and Bucky smiled back, shaking his hand. “It is good to have you back.”

“Thanks for having us, Your Majesty,” Bucky replied, and T’Challa turned to Tony, hand still held out. 

“Mr. Stark.”

“Your Majesty,” Tony said, shaking his hand. “Sergeant Barnes’ sentiment is repeated, here. We’re very appreciative of your willingness to help.” 

“As am I of yours,” T’Challa agreed. He looked at Peter. “Mr. Parker. I believe we met, briefly.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sort of. We didn’t talk to one another, or anything.” Peter cursed, internally. “Sorry. Hello, Your Majesty.” He gestured. “This is my best friend, Ned Leeds.”

“Your Majesty, amazing to meet you,” Ned said, “and to be here. Wakanda’s - the princess’s - technology is… incredible.”

T’Challa chuckled. “Do me a favor, and don’t say that to her, it goes to her head,” he said, and then gestured. “Come. I imagine that you’d like to get some sleep in real beds before we begin our work.”

“Yes, we left the vibranium box in the hands of a few warriors who seemed capable,” Tony said as T’Challa turned to lead them from the room. 

The king nodded. “They will take the box down to Shuri’s lab, where she will x-ray it, to see what we will be dealing with when we open it,” he explained. “That should not take long. Once we know what is inside, we will be able to take the necessary next steps.”

Tony looked over his shoulder at Peter and Ned, to make sure that they were following, rather than staring around the room, still. They were, Ned’s eyes bright with anticipation, Peter with a serious expression on his face. Tony was glad to see at least one of them recognized they were there for a real reason. Bucky walked along behind them silently, face set. Wakanda was old news to him, no doubt. 

“Any idea on a timeline?” Tony asked, turning back around as T’Challa led them all through the doors he’d entered the room through. It took them into another hall, one wall of which was covered in floor to ceiling windows. There was a circle of chairs in the center of the room, one of which was larger than the others. T’Challa walked to it, and sat down in it. 

“Shuri should have the box x-rayed within the hour,” he said in answer to Tony’s question. “From there, we will have a better understanding of the long-term.”

Tony nodded in agreement, and glanced around at his companions. “If we could… y’know, take a minute for ourselves, get freshened up…?” he began after a moment. 

“Yes. Okoye?” T’Challa gestured to the general, who dipped her head, and tapped the bottom of her spear against the floor. Two of the Dora Milaje separated from the group of four to stand near T’Challa’s throne. The king turned back to Tony. “Okoye will show you to the guest quarters. Please feel free to take the time you need; I will send a message to you when Shuri has finished her task.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, dipping his head, the others following his lead. Okoye turned and walked out of the room again, gesturing to them all to follow her. The fourth warrior took up position behind the group. 

Okoye led them through the main hall towards a glass elevator, which she stopped outside of and nodded to. Tony stepped inside, first, Ned pushing past Peter to get in behind him. Peter rolled his eyes and followed, Bucky joining all three of them at a slower pace. The two Dora Milaje stepped in last, and Okoye tapped the panel that appeared when the doors slid closed. Immediately, the elevator jetted upwards at a speed that made Tony’s stomach drop. 

“Whew,” he said, when the door opened five seconds later, and the two warriors stepped out again, waiting for his crew to do the same. “Quick.” 

“Efficient,” Okoye replied, and she started down the hall branching to the right of the elevator. Tony exchanged a glance with Peter before following. 

She led them down the hall to a set of doors at the very end, which she pushed open with her forearm. They opened inwards into a large sitting area complete with a full kitchen. Several other doors led off of the room, all opened to reveal what seemed to be bedrooms on the other side. 

“Each bedroom has its own bathroom,” Okoye said, nodding them all inside. Ned scurried through the doors, mouth agape once more. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said to Okoye. 

“Rest,” she returned. “We have a lot of work ahead of us.” She nodded to her fellow warrior, and they both walked away down the hall. A few moments later, Tony noticed they were replaced by two different warriors, who took up position on either side of the doors. He closed them, gently, and then dropped the suitcase he carried with a groan. 

Peter had settled down on one of the couches, an arm flung across his eyes. Ned was scurrying from room to room, gasping and exclaiming all the while. Bucky had wandered over to one of the bare walls. He reached out a fist, and knocked on it. Almost at once, a screen appeared on the wall, and Bucky smiled to himself.

He glanced over his shoulder towards Tony, tilting his head to the screen. “I think we can call folks from here,” he said. “You mind if I go first?”

“Be my guest,” Tony answered with a shrug, reaching down to pick up the suitcase again. “I’m picking a room.”

He walked out of the sitting area, passing by where Ned was fiddling with the different kitchen appliances. Bucky turned to the screen again. “Call Captain Steve Rogers,” he said, and almost at once, the screen was filled with a picture of Steve. 

It took less than three rings for Steve to answer, even though Bucky had sort of been expecting to get his voicemail. The wavelength of his voice appeared on the screen next to his picture. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Bucky said, crossing his arms. “We made it, and we’re getting settled in. The box is being x-rayed right now.”

“Good,” Steve replied, sounding relieved. “How was the flight?”

“Long,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But we’re here now. I might try to get a nap in.” He glanced over his shoulder towards where Peter still lay on the couch. He hadn’t moved. “Looks like Peter’s already gotten started with that.”

Steve chuckled, the wavelength bouncing. “And Tony’s being respectful?”

“Very,” Bucky assured. “I’m kind of impressed.”

“Tell Steve he’s a dick!” Tony shouted from the other room. 

“Tell Tony that _ he’s _ the dick,” Steve responded, amicably. “I guess you’re all okay, then?” 

“Definitely,” Bucky assured. “But… why are you awake, still? It’s two in the morning, there.”

“Yeah, I wanted to wait up until I knew you’d arrived safely,” Steve explained. “And now I know, and so I’m gonna head to bed.” 

“Good,” Bucky said with a nod. “I’ll talk to you again later.”

“Sounds good.” 

“Good night, Steve.”

“Right. Night. But good morning to you.”

“Hm.” Bucky smiled a little. “Go to sleep.”

“Okay. Love you, Buck.”

“Love you too.”

The call ended, Steve’s picture disappearing from the screen. Bucky sighed outwards, and walked away from the wall, retrieving the duffel bag he’d dropped on the floor. He ducked into a different room than the one Tony had gone into, and sank down onto the edge of the bed with a yawn. 

Peter shifted on the couch, snapping back to consciousness with a snort. “Wow, I actually fell asleep,” he muttered, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. He glanced around, and spotted Ned peering up at the screen on the wall. 

“Amazing,” his friend mumbled, reaching out. His hand passed through the screen. 

“Ned, it’s no different than what we have at the Compound,” Peter told him. 

“This hologram is a lot clearer than the ones at the Compound,” Ned argued. He turned to look at Peter. “Weren’t you going to call Cheri?” 

“She’s probably asleep,” Peter said, glancing at his watch, which was still set to New York time. “I guess I could try Harry, though.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ned was creeping towards the doors of the room. Peter frowned at him. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“I’m… gonna go look around,” Ned replied. 

“Ned -”

“What, what? I’m not gonna leave the Citadel,” his friend said, sighing. “I just want to see more. You didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep, did you?”

Peter exhaled a breath. “They won’t let you go,” he said, meaning the warriors outside the doors. 

“They will,” Ned said, pulling said door open. He glanced between the two warriors posted on the other side. Neither glanced at him. He looked back at Peter. “See?” 

“Ned, I really think you should stay here,” Peter insisted, standing up. “We’ve been in Wakanda for, like, a half-hour. This isn’t a good idea.”

“I just want to look around,” Ned said, and he glanced between the warriors again. “It’s… it’s okay if I do that, right? I’ve just wanted to see the place where all the cool technology I admire so much comes from for so long, and -”

“You will get lost,” one of the warriors told him. “The king would prefer for you to stay here until you are summoned.”

Ned’s shoulders fell. “Fine,” he sighed, and he closed the doors again. He turned around, and glanced at Peter, whose eyebrows were raised. 

“I told you,” he said. 

“Shut up,” Ned muttered, and he walked away towards the third bedroom. 

Peter sighed a little, and pulled out his phone. He dialed Harry’s number, sitting back down. 

“Hey,” Harry said, answering on the third ring. “You guys get in okay?”

“Yeah, we’re here,” Peter replied. “Just thought I’d let you know. I assumed Cheri was sleeping.”

“No, she’s - hey!” Harry’s voice grew smaller, and then Cheri’s was speaking to him instead. 

“Like I’d be sleeping!” she said. “How was the flight?”

“Fine,” Peter answered, smiling to himself. “You _ should _ be sleeping.”

“Yeah, I know,” she admitted. “But I wanted to hear from you, first. Is Ned freaking out?” 

“Kind of, yeah,” Peter said. “He wants to explore, but we’re under lock-down until we find out what’s in the box. How’re you guys doing?”

“Harry’s boring,” Cheri said, and Peter heard Harry’s immediate protest faintly through the phone. “He can’t think of anything fun for us to do that doesn’t involve screens. I’ve been keeping myself entertained.”

“Meaning she’s been sleeping _ all day,” _Harry called. 

“Shut up,” Cheri told him. “Pete?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, still smiling. 

There was a moment of silence. “I already miss you,” she finally said. 

Peter exhaled, feeling that statement in his soul. “Yeah, same here,” he told her, speaking quietly. “We’ll be back as soon as possible, though, I promise.”

“Okay,” Cheri said, quietly. “Will you call again later?”

“Yeah,” Peter promised. “I might even try to video chat, if that’s okay.” 

“More than okay,” she assured, and he could hear her smiling now. “I’m glad you got there safely. I love you.”

“Love you too, Treble Clef,” Peter said. “Get some more sleep.”

“She’s been sleeping _ all day!” _Harry repeated, his voice even louder now, and mocking. “I love you, Peter!” 

“You shit, get -” The call ended, and Peter chuckled to himself, lowering his phone. The two of them were something else, when left alone together. He could only imagine the type of mischief they’d get into, if Cheri wasn’t hurt. 

He leaned his head back against the couch, gazing up at the ceiling, and thought about the ring he’d purchased while out with Harry the morning before they’d left. It wouldn’t be on Cheri’s finger for a while longer, he knew, but… well. He couldn’t wait for the day that it was. And everything that came afterwards. 

Something clattered, in the room that Ned had disappeared into, and Peter closed his eyes for a moment. _ Whatever exists up there, give me strength, _ he thought, and then opened his eyes again, standing. 

“Why are you _ breaking things _ already?” he demanded, walking towards the room.

“No, it - I think it was supposed to do that,” Ned called back. “Don’t - don’t come in here.”

Peter pushed his way into the room all the same, and found Ned crouched over what looked to be one of the holographic phones that had been installed into the Compound after the issue with Thanos. It was toppled over onto the floor. Peter crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame.

“What were you doing with it?” he asked. 

“I was… just looking,” Ned said, picking it up and setting it down on the table it had fallen off of. 

“Right. Y’know, you could dissect the ones at the Compound, instead of the ones that we definitely don’t own,” Peter said, turning around to lug his luggage into the room. 

“No, because I don’t own the ones at the Compound, either,” Ned told him. 

Peter shook his head, smiling a little. The room was set up with two twin-sized beds, which would work for them, considering neither one was very tall. He plopped his luggage down on the end of the one closer to the door. Ned noticed this almost at once. 

“What -?”

Peter glanced at the bed, and then at the other bed, before shrugging a little. “I dunno, used to it, I guess.” He sat down on the bed he’d picked, and then flopped back onto the pillows. “Oh, yeah, definitely getting a nap in,” he mumbled, eyes falling closed. “Don’t get into trouble, Ned.”

“How can I? I’m not allowed to leave the guest quarters,” Ned sighed, nudging the hologram phone. 

“And please don’t try to come up with some devious plan to leave, either,” Peter added as an afterthought. 

Ned snorted, and went to retrieve his luggage from the main room instead. He could hear snoring coming from one of the other bedrooms, and he coughed into his fist to avoid laughing out loud. He should’ve guessed that Tony snored. 

He dragged his suitcase back into the room he’d be sharing with Peter, and plopped it down on his bed. Unzipping it, he considered the flight. It had been long, and he’d done his best to sleep while on it, but he’d been too excited. He couldn’t understand how everyone else was finding it in them to take a nap, especially now that they were _ actually in Wakanda. _

Maybe he was overreacting. They were there to do a job. This wasn’t a trip meant for discovery, or a tour of the labs. There was a box that was carrying a dangerous weapon somewhere nearby, and elsewhere was a shipment of stolen vibranium that needed to be reclaimed. He was there to help with that, not to fulfill his dream of working with Princess Shuri on one of her projects. 

He pulled out the prototype of the unlimited range communication device he’d been working on improving for the last eight years, and studied it for a moment. So what if Shuri could probably help him fix it, make it do what it was supposed to? That wasn’t what he was in Wakanda for. It _ wasn’t. _

It’d be cool to be able to ask her, though. 

He dropped the prototype back into his suitcase, and sighed unhappily. Stupid superhero stuff.


	75. Persons of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion is held about who could be responsible for the stolen vibranium.

**January 27th, 2024 - The Citadel - Kingdom of Wakanda, Africa -** **9:30 AM**

“So -”

“Shh.” The young woman seated at the workbench in front of Tony and Peter held up a finger in their direction, cutting Tony off. He fell silent, blinking, and glanced sideways at Peter in surprise. Peter tried to hide a smile, but failed horribly. Nearby, T’Challa was shaking his head in disapproval. 

Shuri kept her finger up as she typed one-handed on the keyboard in the workbench for several long seconds. Finally, she turned away from the workbench to face them, glancing between the two of them. “You are the same height,” she commented. “I expected one of you to be taller.”

“He is,” Tony said, jerking his thumb towards Peter. 

“Mm, no,” Shuri replied, and she stood, walking towards where T’Challa was, as Peter and Tony exchanged a confused glance. “Brother.”

“Shuri,” he returned. “You finished with the x-ray?” 

Shuri nodded, and raised her hand, tapping at the beads she wore around her wrist. Peter watched in fascination as a display appeared above the beads, projected directly from them, showing a 3D holographic image of the vibranium box. 

“There is nothing solid inside of it, that was identifiable immediately,” Shuri said. She touched the beads again, and the image switched. “So I changed what the machine was meant to be looking for, and it came back positive with a toxic, gaseous substance.”

“Great,” Tony sighed, passing a hand down his face. “Great. What are we supposed to do with it now?”

“Calm down,” Shuri said, glancing at him. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius.”

“I am,” Tony retorted, “but if it’s a gas -”

“We have ways of dealing with it,” Shuri told him. “It is vibranium; we know how to work with it. As of right now, the gas is being transferred safely out of the box into another, just as secure container. Once it is all vacuumed out of the vibranium, we will conduct further tests on it, to learn how we can safely dispose of it.”

“Yeah, the, uh, vacuum-sealed containment units, right?” Peter asked, not thinking. “They were developed for secure transportation of different medicines and stuff.” He glanced around at the other three, realized what he’d just done, and quickly backtracked. “Sorry, just - I read about them. Sorry.”

Shuri looked more amused than anything. “He’s right,” she said, turning to Tony. “It is being taken care of, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony looked just the slightest more relaxed. Knowing that Peter knew about this secure container, knew that it existed, made him feel a little bit better. 

“Okay,” he said, crossing his arms. “And we’ll be told when more information is gathered?”

“Yes,” Shuri assured. 

“Perhaps now we may move on to our other issue,” T’Challa suggested, stepping forward. 

“This is still an issue,” Tony said, pointing to the hologram of the box. “I want to know what it is.”

“That will take some time,” Shuri told him. She tapped at the beads a final time, and the hologram disappeared. “It would make sense to move on to an issue that we can begin work on immediately, rather than remain focused on one that will take at least an hour to make any further progress.” 

Tony let out a breath, and glanced at Peter, who raised his shoulders. It made sense to him to start focusing on the missing vibranium. They seemed to have the gas, bio-weapon or not, under control. The missing vibranium could lead to bigger issues, the longer it was in the hands of people who could use it for bad reasons. They needed to find it as quickly as possible. 

Tony seemed to feel the same way, because his shoulders fell. He turned to T’Challa. “All right,” he said, spreading his hands. “Where do we start?” 

T’Challa nodded to Shuri, who pulled up a different hologram using her beads. This one displayed a series of pictures featuring people all over the world coming in contact with vibranium.

“When Wakanda began its outreach program, we needed to figure out a way to code all the shipments of vibranium we sent out, so that we could track them, in the scenario that something like this occurred,” T’Challa said. 

“So why can’t we just track the part from the shipment that was stolen?” Tony queried, crossing his arms. 

“That was the first thing we tried to do,” Shuri said, frowning at him. 

“And it didn’t work?” 

“No,” T’Challa said. “It seems that whoever stole the vibranium knew enough about our process that they were able to remove the coding, and make it untraceable to us.”

“So… we have nothing,” Tony concluded. 

“We have names,” T’Challa corrected, and Shuri changed the hologram to a rotating view of different pictures of people. “These are ex-citizens of Wakanda, the only people in the world who may have the knowledge to remove the coding in the vibranium who are not in Wakanda itself. I believe it is best if we start with them.”

Tony examined the pictures for a moment, brow furrowed. Peter did the same, circling to Shuri’s other side, frowning a little to himself. There we no names that he recognized, but as Shuri selected one to pull up a more in-depth profile of the person, he noticed T’Challa set his jaw. 

“He a favorite of yours or what?” Tony asked, looking at Shuri. She pursed her lips, but did not speak. Instead, she glanced at T’Challa, who inhaled. 

“This man used to be known by the name of W’Kabi,” he said, gesturing. “He was charged with treason, several years ago, and removed from the country. We are unsure of his present whereabouts, but we do know that he has since changed his name to Winston Cooper, and that he originally relocated to the United Kingdom.”

“And he’d know how to mess with the vibranium?” 

“He was the head of security of the Border Tribe,” T’Challa went on. “And one of my advisers. He did not spend much time in the labs.”

“So he’s not our guy,” Tony concluded. 

T’Challa sighed. “I do not like to think so,” he said, “but, unfortunately, he is one of three people on this list that would steal a shipment of vibranium. How he would have managed to do so is… less obvious.”

“And he’d be resentful enough to do… this?” Tony said, gesturing with one hand as an indication of the bigger issue. 

“We cannot read minds,” Shuri said, dryly. 

“Shuri,” T’Challa said reproachfully, and she rolled her eyes, but looked away. T’Challa went on to Tony, “There is reason to believe that he feels a vendetta against Wakanda. I do not understand why he would willingly take vibranium from those who need it, however.” 

Tony tilted his head and watched the image of W’Kabi, Winston Cooper, rotate above Shuri’s wrist. After a moment, he lifted his shoulders. “Well, once we find him, maybe you can ask him,” he said. “Is it possible he chose to work with somebody? You said he’s only been out of Wakanda for a few years?” 

“Yes.”

“So, it would make sense that he’s probably connected with someone who has experience in this kind of thing,” Tony went on. He gestured. “Got anyone like that in your system?” 

Shuri glanced at her brother again. T’Challa exhaled. “There was one we had issue with for many years,” he said, “but he is dead.”

“For sure dead?” Tony asked, and T’Challa frowned at him. 

“Yes, _ for sure _ dead,” the king replied, flatly. 

Before Tony could ask further questions, the beads that T’Challa wore chimed, and he lifted his wrist. A small hologram appeared over the accessory. “Okoye.”

“My king,” the general said. “Agent Ross has landed.” 

“Ah,” T’Challa sighed, looking over at Shuri, who was smiling. The king turned back to the hologram of his general. “We will be there shortly.”

The hologram disappeared, and T’Challa exchanged a glance with Shuri before he turned back to Tony. “Agent Ross has been… assisting us with this,” he explained. “We thought it might be helpful, if everyone who is trying to locate the stolen vibranium was in the same place, for the time being.”

“Mm.” Tony crossed his arms. “This is the Agent Ross from the CIA that…” he trailed off meaningfully, eyebrow lifted. 

“Yes,” T’Challa responded. 

“Great,” Tony said, smiling. Peter could see there was no humor in it. “I think I have a few words to share with him.”

“Mr. Stark -” Peter started, but Tony ignored him, gesturing.

“I don’t think we should keep him waiting,” he said, and T’Challa dipped his head in agreement. Tony glanced at Peter. “Why don’t you head back to the guest quarters, Pete?” 

“But -” Tony did not give him a chance to finish. Peter watched, frowning, as he followed T’Challa out of the laboratory. The two Dora Milaje that had escorted them went after them both. Peter’s shoulders fell, and he let out a breath. 

“How long has he been looking after you?” Peter blinked, and glanced over at Shuri, who’d walked to a different workbench and sat down at it. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “Years?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter said. “Eight or so.” 

“So you should expect that sort of thing,” Shuri concluded, nodding in the direction that the others had gone. 

“I guess,” Peter responded, and he started that way himself. “Sorry, I should… I probably should get going.”

“Did you design your own suit?” He paused, and looked at her again. She’d rotated around in her chair to face him. It took him a moment to phrase his response. 

“N-no, not… not the first one, that was all him,” he said, waving his hand in indication of Tony. “But, y’know, there’s been a couple since then, and I’ve… made suggestions. The latest one I actually designed all on my own, and I’m pretty proud of it. It was nanotech, but I changed that.” 

“It’s not for everyone,” Shuri said, and he shook his head. “Do you have it with you?” 

“Uh… yeah,” Peter said. “Upstairs.”

“And what about the mixture you created, to mimic spider’s web?” Shuri asked. 

“Yep, a lot of that, too,” Peter said. He leaned up on his toes for a moment. “Do you… I mean, I could show it to you?” 

Shuri smiled, and shrugged. “Only if you want to,” she said. “Everyone has creations they like to keep to themselves.” She gestured around the lab. “There are a few things down here that I would never show anyone. Geniuses like us sometimes have to build the things we want, even if we don’t necessarily want to share it with others.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I’d call myself a _ genius, _ necessarily,” Peter said, quietly, looking down. 

“Mr. Parker, you created web fluid with a tensile strength that not only can support your full weight, but can hold back speeding trains, can pull down _ buildings,” _ Shuri reminded him. “That is not necessarily something any normal person could come up with.”

Peter shrugged. “I… y’know, I found out I got bit by a spider, and just… I decided to die on that rock.” 

Shuri grinned. “For the aesthetic, right?” she asked, and Peter smiled a little as well. 

“Yeah, exactly. Uh, but I wouldn’t mind showing you. I don’t know if you would be able to think of anything to do with it. But -”

“I do not necessarily want to use it for anything,” Shuri said. “I would just like to see it in action.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll uh… I’ll go get it.” Peter turned, and started to exit the lab. He paused, again, however, when a thought came to him, and he slowly turned to look at her again. “Um. Do you mind if I bring my friend Ned down here? He - I promise he won’t touch anything, unless you say he can, but if you want to meet a _ real _ genius, he’s your guy.”

Shuri lifted her eyebrows, curious. “I would definitely like to meet him,” she said. 

“Great!” Peter said, relaxing, and he hurried out of the lab, already thinking of things he’d threaten Ned with in order to keep him from completely embarrassing both himself and Peter once he was introduced to Shuri. 

** 9:55 AM **

Tony pushed his way into the throne room of the Citadel ahead of T’Challa and his warriors, even though that probably wasn’t necessarily the most ‘respectful’ choice. That didn’t matter to him at the moment; Steve wasn’t there to make sure he was minding his fucking P’s and Q’s. 

“Agent Ross,” he began, and the blond man standing near the windows of the room turned to face him. 

“Mr. Stark,” Everett Ross replied, blinking. He glanced past Tony towards where T’Challa was walking into the room, and then looked back at Tony instead, stepping forward. “I didn’t know that you were called in on this.”

“It’s a recent development,” Tony said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “One of mine found some of the stolen vibranium, and we brought it back.”

“Ah.” The CIA agent looked again at T’Challa, who’d walked up on Tony’s left side, looking a bit resigned. “Well, we could use the help, I think. The rest has been missing for almost three weeks, so -”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been through all this,” Tony said, shaking his head. “What do you have on this Winston Cooper guy?” 

Ross lifted his chin a little, raising an eyebrow. “So, he _ is _ our priority?” he asked, directing the question to T’Challa. “That would’ve been nice to know.”

“That is also a recent development,” T’Challa told him. “Mr. Stark and two other Avengers are here to help assist in the return of the vibranium, and we were discussing possibilities of who might have taken it in the first place. As we have told you before, Cooper is, quite possibly, the only person who has a vengeance that would be able to strip the vibranium of its tracker.”

Ross folded his arms across his chest. “Fair enough,” he said. “I just wasn’t made aware that we were going to focus our attention on him.”

“That is because we have not decided to do so, yet,” T’Challa replied. He looked sideways at Tony. “I imagine Mr. Stark simply wants to cover every base he can.”

“Exactly,” Tony said, “and since you seem to think he’s our guy, it makes sense to start with him.” He turned his attention to Ross again. “So? Cooper. What do you have on him?” 

Ross exhaled a breath. “Winston Cooper moved out of Wakanda after his trial, during which he was found guilty and banished,” he said, “which I’m sure T’Challa’s covered with you by now. Since then, we’ve been watching him, although it’s been close to seven years, now, since he was banished, and we haven’t been focused on him.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, probably a bit more dramatically than necessary. “You mean to tell me that _ no one _ has any idea where the guy is?” he asked, and Ross glanced at T’Challa, who was studying a point in the distance, eyes narrowed slightly. Tony blew out a sigh. “Honestly, you’d think you’d keep a closer eye on the guy who had to be banished from the country for treason and attempted murder.”

“We _ were,” _ T’Challa said, coolly. He turned his gaze towards Tony. “He disappeared.”

“No one can just _ disappear,” _ Tony bit back. “They always leave some sort of trail, which is what we need to start looking for. When did we last hear from him, in any capacity?” 

“Three months ago,” T’Challa said. He lifted his wrist, and tapped his beads. A hologram raised over them, displaying some information. “He was still in the United Kingdom at the time, working as a security guard. He eventually stopped going to work, stopped paying for the flat he had been living in. There was no longer any record of him, anywhere.” 

“Well. Everyone leaves a record, if they’re alive,” Tony said, “and we have to assume that this guy _ is _ still alive, if we’re thinking he’s the one to have stolen the vibranium.”

“It’s possible that he wasn’t involved in _ stealing _ the shipment,” Ross said, and Tony glanced at him. The agent lifted his hands. “Maybe whoever stole it went to Cooper for help in removing the tracker, and that was it.”

“That is possible,” T’Challa agreed after a moment of silence.

“Okay. Either way, he probably knows something, so I suggest we start looking for him,” Tony said. “His last known location was the UK. Where in the UK?”

“The heart of London,” T’Challa replied. “He was a guard at the British Museum.”

“There we go, then,” Tony said. “That’s where we’ll start.” He turned. “I’ll head over there today, poke around. We’ll find him.”

“Mr. Stark, we need a real plan,” Ross said from behind him, but Tony pretended not to have heard. 

“If we can’t find him, then we’ll start looking through those other names -” 

“Mr. Stark.” He paused, when the two Dora Milaje stepped in front of the doors of the throne room, blocking his exit. Sighing, he turned around to face the other men instead. T’Challa was gazing at him, face blank. “This is not the right way to do this,” he said. 

“There is no _ right way,” _ Tony retorted, walking back over to where he still stood. “I know that you want your vibranium back, and if we’re going to get it back, we need to start moving. I’m not sure what you’ve been doing the past three weeks, in terms of trying to find it, but obviously, it hasn’t been working, so maybe it’s time for someone else to step in and do what they think might work.” 

T’Challa did not even blink. “Mr. Stark,” he began, “you are here because you were in possession of a part of the shipment that was stolen. Now that it has been returned, you no longer need to be here in Wakanda. I will not hesitate to ask that you return to the United States, if you do not choose to cooperate.”

“I _ am _cooperating,” Tony said, only just barely managing to not clench his teeth and speak through them. “I want to find the vibranium before someone creates a weapon out of it, or arms a militia with it. In order to do that, I need to take some steps that you haven’t.” 

“Gentlemen, perhaps we should take a moment,” Ross said, stepping forward as though he needed to separate them. “No offense to either of you, but I’d rather not be witness to a fight between two superheroes, especially when we’re all working towards the same goal, here.”

Tony stared at T’Challa for a moment longer before shaking his head a little, and stepping back again. “Tell you what,” he started, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You come find me when you decide that I can actually do what you wanted me here for, all right? Until then, I guess I’ll go get some more sleep, because I _ am _ exhausted.” 

He moved away again, and was actually allowed to leave the room, this time. He sighed to himself as soon as the doors closed again behind him, and then checked his watch. After a moment, he tapped his glasses. “FRIDAY?” 

“Yes, boss?” 

“How quickly can we get to London by suit travel?” 

“About four hours,” FRIDAY answered. “But -”

“I didn’t ask, FRI,” Tony said, and he headed for the guest quarters. 

He passed Ned and Peter as they were both coming out, Ned bright-eyed and rambling. Peter was only half-listening, Tony could tell. That meant he was very easily capable of spotting the look on his mentor’s face, which Peter knew usually meant trouble. 

“Mr. Stark?” 

“Not now, kid.”

“What - no, Mr. Stark, tell me what’s going on,” Peter insisted, moving in the way of the door so that Tony could not enter the room. 

Tony fixed him with a Look that typically would have made the kid move no questions asked. Peter, however, stood his ground. “Get out of the way, Peter.”

“Mr. Stark, you brought me to help,” Peter said, crossing his arms. “How am I supposed to do that if I don’t know what’s happening?” Tony said nothing. “Are you seriously going to act like this?” 

“Maybe I’m not telling you because I don’t want you to know!” Tony snapped. 

“Then what the _ fuck _ is the point of me being here?” Peter demanded. “If you wanted to handle this on your own, then maybe you should have come _ on your own.” _

“I don’t need you to rationalize it for me,” Tony said, stonily. “I’m not going to tell you again, Parker. Move.” 

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Peter responded. 

Tony rolled his eyes upwards. “I don’t have time for this,” he said after a moment, and then moved to shove past Peter into the guest quarters. Rather than step out of the way, Peter swung his leg out and knocked Tony’s out from under him. Tony fell to the ground on his back, and groaned a little. He heard a familiar noise, and shifted beneath the web that Peter had trapped him with. 

“Seriously?” Peter asked, frowning down at him. “What the hell were you thinking was going to happen?” 

“I can’t believe you did that to me, just now,” Tony said. “You must be kidding.”

“Peter, maybe you should let him up,” Ned said, sounding the tiniest bit nervous, and for good reason. Tony was _ fuming. _ Smoke was practically rising from the top of his head. 

“I’m not going to let him up just so that he can fly off and, like, get himself killed,” Peter responded. He crouched down, frowning at Tony. “What’s going on?” 

“Bite me,” Tony said, turning his head away. “You’re costing me a whole hour of work that I could be doing. I hope you’re happy.”

“What the hell’s going on out here?” Bucky asked, appearing in the doorway of the guest quarters, looking as though he’d just woken up. 

“Mr. Stark’s being a brat,” Peter explained, standing up again. 

“Mm, what else is new?” Bucky asked, dryly, and Tony responded with a string of colorful language that would have made any religious grandmother splash him with holy water. 

“I think he has a plan, but he won’t tell me what it is,” Peter went on. “We talked with King T’Challa; apparently, there’s a couple of people out in the world who were banished from Wakanda, that might have reason to steal the vibranium. Their top candidate is some dude named Winston Cooper, who moved to the UK after his banishment.” Peter glanced at Tony again. “When Mr. Stark heard that Agent Ross from the CIA is here to deal with the vibranium, too, the mood kind of shifted. They went to talk to him, but I don’t know what happened there.”

“Nothing happened,” Tony said, sharply. 

“Obviously something must have, with the way you came storming through here!” Peter retorted. “We’re supposed to be here as a team, but you’re not really acting that way by not telling us any plans you might have come up with.”

Tony shook his head without saying anything else, and Peter tilted his head backwards in exasperation for a moment, before he shook it and looked at Bucky. “I guess we’ll just have to sit on him until he changes his mind.” He looked down at Tony again. “By the way? I improved the web fluid. It doesn’t dissolve in an hour, anymore.” 

“You’re cruel,” Tony said, eyes narrowed, but Peter ignored him. 

“C’mon Ned,” he said. “I’ll go down there with you long enough to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself, and then I’ll come back up here.”

“Okay, but I’d probably be fine on my own,” Ned said, heading for the elevator. 

“Wait, Pete?” Peter did not turn around, and Tony shifted uncomfortably, very aware of the way Bucky was eyeing him. “Peter, don’t leave me here with him! He - _ he killed my parents!” _

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, and then he turned and walked back into the guest quarters without looking back. Tony turned his eyes upwards to the ceiling overhead, eyeing the intricate design there, sighing. He’d known he should have just worn the arc reactor. If he hadn’t had to come up here to get it, he would’ve been on his way to Britain, by now. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, and settled in to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and also Tony's a brat.   
Yeah.


	76. Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter shows off his skills.

**January 27th, 2024 - The Citadel - Kingdom of Wakanda, Africa - ** **10:09 AM**

“All right, what did we say?” Peter prompted, and Ned let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“I’m not going to bow,” he said. “And I’m not going to touch anything without asking first. Actually, I shouldn’t even _ ask _ to touch anything. And I’m definitely not supposed to show her the prototype for the long-distance communication device I’ve been working on.”

“Good,” Peter said, as the elevator opened up on the level that Shuri’s lab resided on. Several warriors eyed them both as they started down the sloping hall to get to the main floor. Ned pretended not to feel scrutinized. 

“And she said I could come down?” he asked again. 

“Yeah,” Peter answered. “She said she wanted to meet you. So… don’t be _ weird.” _

“I’m _ not,” _ Ned retorted, sighing a little. “I might have a heart attack from being around all that tech, but I’m not gonna be _ weird.” _

“Having a heart attack would be weird,” Peter told him. They rounded the final corner, and Ned’s pace increased a bit the rest of the way. Peter asked a higher power for patience, and went after him. 

“Holy _ shit,” _Ned said, eyes wide, as he spun in a slow circle, taking in everything that he could see. Peter’s shoulders fell; he couldn’t exactly be angry with him for saying that, because his sentiments had been similar. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“Mr. Leeds.” Ned jumped, next to him, and turned quickly, blinking when he spotted Shuri, who’d walked over to them. 

“Princess!” he said after Peter nudged him with his elbow. “Hi! Wow, I - I can’t believe I’m meeting you.”

Shuri smiled. “From what Peter’s said, I should be saying the same thing about you,” she said. “Apparently, you’re a genius.”

“I -” Ned cut himself off, and looked over at Peter. “You said I was a genius?” 

Peter lifted his shoulders, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I mean, yeah, ‘cause you are.” He gestured. “I have to get back upstairs, but -”

“Don’t worry,” Shuri said. “I think Ned and I can find something to do down here.”

“I bet,” Ned said, looking around again. “Holy _ shit.” _

“Sorry,” Peter said quietly to Shuri. “He’s been really excited.” 

Shuri merely smirked. “I’ll keep him busy,” she said. _ “I’m _excited to learn if he’s actually as smart as you seem to think he is.”

“I promise that he is,” Peter said, smiling back. “Thank you.” He turned back to Ned, who’d wandered towards one of the workbenches. “Don’t break anything, Ned.”

“Okay, Mom,” Ned said over his shoulder. “Is this a schematic for a new version of Kimoyo beads?” 

Shuri walked over to join him. “Everything can be improved,” she said. “I’ve been developing a better, clearer holographic image by strengthening communication waves between the different sets of beads.”

“That’s awesome,” Ned said, in awe. 

Peter exhaled a breath of relief. They’d be fine. 

He headed back upstairs to the guest quarters, marveling once again at the speed the elevator traveled. When he stepped off, and walked down the hall, he saw Tony where he’d left him in web on the floor, glowering up at the ceiling. Peter leaned over him, into his line of sight. 

“You ready to talk about this like an adult?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

“You’re one to talk!” Tony snapped in response. “Leaving me lying here like this. What the hell were you thinking?” 

“I was thinking that you were about to fly off and do something reckless, on your own, which you’re known to do,” Peter answered, crossing his arms. “Right?” 

Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes. “So? I get out all right.”

“Yeah, after ruining something else,” Peter said. “We want to actually find this guy, get them their vibranium back. We don’t do that by you flitting off on your own, without thinking it through first.”

Tony shook his head a little. “I wasn’t going to _ do _ anything,” he muttered. “I was just going to start looking for the guy.”

“By flying over there in the Iron Man suit, and drawing media attention to yourself,” Peter concluded. “That isn’t the right way to find him, and you know it.”

“The guy’s underground.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t watching the news. If that vibranium’s getting around, getting turned into containers for bioweapons, he’ll want to know about it.” Tony was silent. Peter crouched down. “Mr. Stark, I know you like to work alone, sometimes, but on something like this? We need to strategize. If word gets out that the Wakandans have Avengers looking for their stolen vibranium, it’s going to get buried really quick, and make it that much more difficult for us to find.” 

Tony let out a breath after a very long moment of silence. “I know I’m going senile when the kid who voluntarily wears spandex starts to make sense,” he muttered, and it was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes. Tony smiled a little, and shifted beneath the web. “All right, Spider-Man, let me up. Let’s talk this through, like _ adults.” _

“Okay,” Peter said, and he sliced through the web with the blade he’d created for that very purpose, and installed into the watch he’d received from Cheri on his last birthday. Tony sat up, sighing, pulling remnants of web off his clothing. 

“How long does it last now?” he asked, glancing at Peter, who’d stood up.

“About four hours, give or take,” he said, grinning. 

“Nice,” Tony said, and Peter held down a hand to help pull him to his feet. Tony accepted it. 

They headed into the guest quarters, and found Bucky sitting on the couch in the main room, studying the floor. He looked up at their entrance, and lifted his eyebrow. 

“He decided to act his age?” he asked, directing the question to Peter. Tony cursed at him, halfheartedly. 

“Yeah, we’re all gonna sit down and figure this out,” Peter stated, settling down on the couch. He looked at Tony expectantly. “So. What’s up?”

Tony sighed a little, but went through all the information he’d gathered thus far on who could have taken the vibranium, and where to begin when it came to looking for it. Bucky listened attentively, head tilted slightly to the side. Peter leaned back against the couch cushions with his arms crossed, eyes on the ceiling. When Tony had finished, he glanced down. 

“And you were seriously considering flying to the UK to find him on your own?” he asked, frowning. Tony scowled back. 

“Yes, that _ was _ the plan, until you webbed me to the floor.” He gestured vaguely. “Now, I guess, we’ll _ all _ go to the UK to start looking for him.”

Bucky frowned a little. “I don’t think that’s the best way to go about this,” he said. “I’ve had some experience with being in hiding, and it - looking for someone doesn’t usually cut it. Steve could tell you as much.” He paused, as though considering his words, and then finally said, “We might need to draw him out.”

“You want to bait him?” Tony asked, and Bucky lifted his shoulders. “With what? More vibranium ripe for the picking? They’ll never agree to that.”

“No, they won’t,” Peter said, quietly, “but baiting him might be a good idea.” He glanced up and at Tony. “What’s the one thing this guy would probably want, aside from vibranium?” Tony blinked at him, and then shrugged. Peter waved his hand. “A chance to return to Wakanda. If we can convince King T’Challa, maybe we could tempt him to come out into the open with the possibility of some type of amnesty?” 

“Amnesty?” Tony repeated, frowning. “Pete, that’s insane.”

“Well, obviously it wouldn’t be _ real,” _ Peter said, frowning back. “It would just be a lure.”

Tony let out a breath, and shook his head. “I really don’t think T’Challa would agree to that,” he said. “We aren’t even sure he’s our guy.”

“But it’s better than going out to find him, and driving him further underground,” Peter argued. 

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Bucky said, and when Tony looked over at him, he shrugged again. “We might as well start there, anyway. Even if he isn’t the one to have stolen the vibranium, he might still know something useful.” 

“And what happens when this guy realizes that he isn’t actually being granted amnesty?” Tony asked, crossing his arms. 

Peter sighed a little. “That’s the part I haven’t figured out,” he admitted. “Which, for a plan concocted in the last, like, thirty seconds, that’s not so bad.”

“It’s the most important part, though,” Tony told him. 

“Maybe that’s a question that can be answered by T’Challa,” Bucky suggested. “After this mess, he might not want this guy out in the world.” 

“So he’ll be imprisoned for giving up information?” Tony clarified. “Doesn’t seem like a fair deal.”

“It’s not,” Bucky said, “but the guy’s a criminal.”

Tony looked between the two of them for a long moment before groaning, tilting his head back. “I really don’t want to have to drag my sorry ass down to the throne room,” he said despondently. 

“If you want me to do it, I will,” Bucky said, “but you seemed to want to be the _ leader _ of this group, so I was just going to sit back and let you tell me what to do.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m telling you to go tell the King of Wakanda that we might have a plan that probably won’t work but is worth a shot if he’s willing,” Tony said, and he sank down into an armchair that was rather conveniently placed directly behind him. His eyes closed. “I want to get some more sleep.”

Bucky glanced at Peter, who managed a small smile. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “Since it was technically my idea, and if the king feels like yelling about how stupid an idea it is, he might as well yell at me.” 

Bucky chuckled, and pushed himself to a standing position. “I bet that you’d rather be down in the labs with Ned and the princess,” he said. 

“I mean, sure,” Peter said, “but I wasn’t brought here to play around in the labs.” 

“That’s true,” Bucky said. They both exited the guest quarters, and headed towards the elevator. “Still. It seems like an opportunity you should be afforded, considering.” 

“Maybe when there’s an actual plan in place, and there’s, like, y’know, a waiting period or whatever,” Peter said as they stepped into the elevator. He started to lean against the wall, then remembered it was glass and thought better of it, straightening up again. “Or maybe I’ll be sent home, which I wouldn’t mind, either.”

“You want to go back to New York already?” Bucky asked, lifting an eyebrow. “We’ve been here three hours.”

Peter smiled. “For Cheri,” he explained. 

“Ah.” Bucky turned forward. “Makes sense.” 

The elevator reached the council chamber floor, and they exited it, heading in that direction. As they walked, Peter’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, looking down at the screen. His smile grew as he tapped on the text that he’d received. 

> _ Cher: I saw a meme on Twitter but my stupid feed updated before I could save it and send it to you but the point of this story is that I saw the meme and I thought of you and I’m still thinking about you hi. _
> 
> _ Me: Hi. Why aren’t you sleeping? _
> 
> _ Cher: Because I slept all day and now I’m wide awake. Are you busy? _
> 
> _ Me: A little. I’ll call you later? _
> 
> _ Cher: You don’t have to. I just wanted to let you know that I wanted to send you a meme, but couldn’t due to technology sucking ass. <3 _
> 
> _ Me: You shouldn’t be looking at your phone anyway, Concussion. Love you. _

He put his phone away again, shaking his head a little, and glanced sideways at Bucky, only to see him smiling. “What?” 

“Nothing,” Bucky replied. “How long have the two of you been together?” 

“Uh, about a year and a half,” Peter answered. “But we’ve known one another for, like, three years, now.”

“Hm.” 

“What?”

“It’s just interesting to see the differences in relationships now, versus when… y’know, I was your age,” Bucky explained. “With the war and everything, people got married within six months.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said, and he shrugged. “I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been thinking about it. I just - I don’t know. I’ve sort of known that I wanted to marry her for a while, now, it’s just… we didn’t _ need _ to get married right away, ‘cause we knew it would happen.” He paused, and glanced over at Bucky. “Sorry, you don’t care.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t mind listening, though,” he said. “Not that I can give advice, really.”

“What’re you talking about? Cap seems to think you were the biggest ladies’ man in the world,” Peter said, and Bucky’s smiled softened a bit, into something that was just the tiniest bit sad. 

“That’s only because I was trying to ignore my feelings for him,” he explained. “There was no way for us to have been together, back then, so I did what I could to get over it. Obviously, it worked out for the better, but… I’m always going to feel bad about having paraded all those girls around while he was with me.”

Peter didn’t really know how to respond to that, and so he didn’t. Instead, he turned forward, since they were nearing the throne hall. Two Dora Milaje stood outside the doors, and opened them for the two of them. T’Challa was sitting on the throne, forehead cupped in his hand. He glanced up at their entrance, however, and straightened up. 

“Lieutenant Barnes, Mr. Parker,” he started. “I had thought we were done with discussion for the morning.” 

“Mr. Stark sends his apologies; he hasn't been sleeping well, and it kind of reached a peak, and we all figured it would be best if he took time to try and get some rest,” Peter said, glancing sideways at Bucky when there was a moment of silence. He hadn’t expected to be the one to take the lead, but apparently, that was what was happening. “Uh, but we came up with a possible idea that we wanted to talk about with you.” 

T’Challa lifted his chin, slightly. “And what is this plan?” he asked, sounding curious, if not enthusiastic about the prospect of having a next step. 

Peter rehashed what the three Avengers had discussed. He was unable to tell if T’Challa approved or thought the idea was insane throughout his explanation. When he was finished, stating that it was, of course, up to the king, said king leaned back a bit in his throne, looking more thoughtful than anything. 

“It is not… unreasonable,” he began at last, “to think that W’Kabi may supply us information, if we offered him amnesty. However, myself, and the rest of the Wakandan Council, have zero intention of allowing that man back into the country.”

“Right,” Peter said. “Which is why we brought this idea to you. Could you think of anything else that could be offered to him, that he might take in exchange for information?” 

T’Challa was silent for a long moment. “There may be one thing,” he said at last, and then he looked at them both. “Thank you for bringing this to me. I will discuss it with the Council at the earliest possible time, and let you know what we manage to come up with.” 

“Great,” Peter said. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He bowed a little, following Bucky’s lead, and then the two of them exited the room again. When they were a fair distance away from the Dora Milaje outside the doors, Peter looked at Bucky. 

“Uh, what was that?” 

“Hm?” 

“You - I figured you’d be the one talking,” Peter said, “but then you didn’t, and so I just kind of stepped in? Was that… was that _ planned?” _

Infuriatingly, Bucky merely smiled and said, “I figured it would be good practice.”

Peter blinked. “Practice for what?”

“For when you’re running the Avengers,” Bucky said. 

“When I’m - sorry, who said I’d be running the Avengers?” Peter demanded, stopping completely. 

Bucky stopped as well, an eyebrow raised. “I just assumed it was a given,” he said. “Stark’s going to pass on the mantle eventually, and you’re the obvious choice for him to hand the power over to.” 

Peter spluttered for a second, feeling very juvenile, but also, _ what the fuck _ was Bucky even _ saying? _

“Mr. Stark isn’t going anywhere for a long time,” he said. “And even if he were, for the sake of argument, I wouldn’t say that he’s in charge of the Avengers. It’s more like a joint effort.”

Bucky shrugged. “Even if that’s true, Steve’s not quite the hero he used to be. I imagine that when Stark hangs up his armor, Steve’s gonna hang up his shield, and we’ll move onto the next generation of Avenger.” He gestured. “That includes you.”

“Even if it _ does,” _ Peter said, “that doesn’t mean I’d be in charge.” He forced a laugh. “I mean. You. Mr. Wilson. Whoever else might show up between now and then -”

“Parker, it’d be you,” Bucky said, interrupting. God, why did he sound so _ sure? _ To make matters worse, he was walking away, now. “Really, do you think Sam or I want to be in charge?” he asked over his shoulder.

Peter jogged to catch up with him, frowning down at the floor. “I mean. Mr. Wilson might.”

“No,” Bucky said, and Peter couldn’t argue, because Bucky knew Sam better than he did. 

Still. What the hell was this conversation? Tony and Steve not being on the Avengers anymore? The idea that there’d be a _ next generation? _ Himself as the _ head _ of that next generation? It was insane. He’d never want to lead the Avengers. He wasn’t _ built _ for that sort of thing. 

…

But wasn’t he, though? He had come up with the plan that they’d just taken to T’Challa. He was passionate about his superhero-ing. In group projects, whenever necessary, he’d take up the role as director, to ensure that everything got done. That was true both at work, and when he’d been in school. So… realistically, he could lead the Avengers. But… 

No. No, it was silly to even think about it. Tony was staying right where he was for a long time, and whatever Bucky said, Steve still had his Captain America super juice inside of him. Things wouldn’t be changing anytime soon, so what did he need to be worrying about it for? 

He ducked into the elevator behind Bucky, carefully avoiding looking at him. Why’d he have to bring it up? And when Peter was getting comfortable, too, thinking that, for the sake of his personal life, Spider-Man and the Avengers could kind of take the backseat, once this whole vibranium thing was dealt with. All he wanted to do was go back to New York, and wait for Cheri to graduate college, so that he could pull out the ring he’d bought and make it official that they were _ definitely getting married at some point. _

Leading the Avengers? How could he do that, when he wanted to focus more on his relationship, his friendships, and maybe even consider going back to school to get his master’s, and then his doctorate? Spider-Man could be involved in that, since he had been since his sophomore year of high school, but adding leading the Avengers to that responsibility? 

No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. It wasn’t for him. 

But could he be that selfish, willingly? Especially if leading the Avengers became a necessity?

Maybe he needed to have a conversation with Tony about it. 


	77. Dinner and a Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squad prepares for dinner with King T'Challa and his family. Peter has a conversation with Tony.

**January 27th, 2024 - The Citadel - Kingdom of Wakanda, Africa - 6;23 PM**

“We’re having dinner with a king,” Tony said, tilting his head as he studied himself in the mirror of the guest room he’d chosen. “What the hell do you wear to that sort of soiree?” 

From where his phone sat on a shelf, Stephen hummed thoughtfully. “A suit?” 

“But that’s what I wear on the daily,” Tony said, and he grinned. “Does this mean I’m fit to dine with kings on the reg?” 

“Don’t ever say ‘the reg’ again,” Stephen advised. “And, no, I doubt that your daily suits are the best choice for dinner with royalty. I was thinking something more… white tie-ish.” 

Tony cursed, jokingly. “And to think I left my coattails at home.”

Stephen sighed. “I’m not bringing them to you.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Tony said. “If you were here, I’d skip dinner altogether.” 

“You can’t say things like that, either.” Tony glanced at his phone when there was a pause. When Stephen spoke again, there was something to his tone that made Tony grin. “Send me a picture of your room.”

“However much I’d love to,” Tony said, straightening the tie that he’d slid under his collar, “we’re being adults about this, remember?” 

“You’re right,” Stephen said after another moment. “It’s best that we… stay separate, give ourselves this time to think about our relationship.” Another pause. “That’s rather difficult to do when you call me.” 

“Sorry,” Tony said, finishing with his tie. He walked closer to where his phone was. “I just wanted to share where we were, that’s all. Hopefully T’Challa managed to find time to meet with his Council today, and we’ll be able to move forward with this.” 

“Did you learn anything about the toxin that was in the box?” Stephen queried. 

“No,” Tony said. “Peter told me that his friend Ned’s been down in the labs with the princess all day long. I imagine that was a pretty large distraction for her.” 

Stephen chuckled. “At least Ned is enjoying himself,” he said. 

“One of us should,” Tony agreed. He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Anything else?”

“I suppose not,” Stephen replied. “You can call me again later with another update, if you want. I imagine there’ll be one after dinner.”

“Let’s hope so,” Tony said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right. Bye.”

“Bye,” Tony said, and the call ended. He pushed his phone into his pocket, and then walked out of his room into the main area of the guest quarters. Peter was sitting on one of the couches, talking into his own phone. He looked over at Tony’s entrance, however. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark’s out here, so I better go,” he said into his phone, and listened for a moment, smiling a little. “You two need to play nice. Cheri, don’t mistreat Harry, and Harry, don’t do anything to warrant mistreatment.” He listened again, and rolled his eyes. “You’re both children, but I love you. Bye.” 

He listened again, and then laughed, lowering his phone and ending the call. He turned back to Tony. “Hey. That’s a nice suit.”

Tony held out his arms, and did a small circle. “Thanks,” he said. “Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Peter glanced down at his own outfit, which included a button up and a pair of black slacks. He looked at Tony, frowning. “Is it not enough?” 

Tony grinned, and gestured with his head. “I think it needs a tie, at least. C’mon, I have extras.”

Peter followed him to his room, and Tony poked through his luggage, searching for a tie that would go with Peter’s shirt. He found one after a moment, and turned to the kid, holding it out. “Here ya go.” 

Peter took it, and slid it beneath his collar. He then walked over to the mirror so that he could look at himself while tying it. As he did so, he said, “So… are you, uh… are you thinking of, like, retiring from the Avengers?” 

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “What gave you that idea?”

Peter blew out a breath. “I dunno. Bucky let me take the lead earlier, when we were talking to T’Challa, and he said it was practice.” He met Tony’s eyes in the mirror. “I don’t really know what to take from that, other than the possibility that I’m going to be doing this sort of thing more often, and the only reason I can see for that is you and maybe Cap taking a step back.”

“Kid -”

“And it’s totally okay, if you are, or if you’re not,” Peter said, quickly. “I - I’m ready to pick up more important jobs, if I need to, and like, if someone ever needs to step into that leadership position, I could do that, too, probably.” He finished with his tie, and turned to look at Tony. The tie was slightly askew. “Just, y’know, if it was necessary. I’d prefer not doing that, like, for a while, if ever, but… I would.”

Tony studied him for a moment before smiling a bit, and stepping forward. He straightened the kid’s tie for him, and then rested his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “You have nothing to worry about,” he assured. “Even if you _ did _ need to take up a leadership role, at some point in the future, I’m almost positive you’d be able to do so without any issues.” 

“Other than that I don’t _ want _ to have to do that?” Peter queried, under his breath, and Tony sighed, stepping back again. 

“What a person wants doesn’t necessarily fall into the equation, in this type of work,” he said. “I figured you knew that by now.”

“I do,” Peter said, “just…”

“Hey.” Peter glanced up at him, and Tony smiled again, more gently this time. “I know. You’re young, and you want to be able to do, like, normal things that people your age do. I get it, but when you’re a hero -”

“No, Mr. Stark, it isn’t just that,” Peter said, and Tony lifted an eyebrow. Peter exhaled a breath, closing his eyes. “I bought an engagement ring, for Cheri, before we came to Wakanda.” This was said slowly, carefully, and Tony blinked. Not necessarily because he was surprised, but because he hadn’t expected Peter to move so quickly about the whole marriage thing. 

Peter’s eyes opened again. “I want… I want to get married to her, and like, move into our own apartment, and hopefully have kids someday, and I’m - of course I don’t want all that to get in the way of Spider-Man stuff, but I also don’t want Spider-Man stuff to get in the way of _ that,” _he said, piecing the words together into a coherent thought.

Tony studied him for a long moment, not sure what there was to say to this. “Oh,” was what he finally settled on, and Peter’s shoulders fell. 

“I just - it got me thinking, is all, the idea of me someday being, like, the head of the Avengers, and it… it freaked me out, because what would that mean for _ me? _ You know? Like, my personal life. No one even knows that I’m Spider-Man, and to imagine that someday Spider-Man might be the frontrunner of the Avengers, it… thinking about it scared the hell out of me. I don’t _ want _ to run the Avengers. I don’t. I want… I want to just be Spider-Man.” 

Tony continued to gaze at him. “But you are an Avenger,” he said, slowly. 

“I know, and if… y’know, something like this, a big deal arises, then I’m happy to step in and help out,” Peter said, “but I don’t… I don’t want the Avengers to be the center of my life. I want… I want the center of my life to be… y’know, me, and what I want to do with it. And leading the Avengers, at any point in the future, isn’t it.” 

“It’s starting a family,” Tony said. 

“Someday, yeah,” Peter agreed. “And, like, doing my prosthetics thing, getting my doctorate.” He sounded sheepish. “I know that makes me selfish or whatever, but I’m not - I’m not _ trying _ to be. I just want to be able to live my life, while also doing what I’ve been doing for the last eight years. Because I like helping people, saving the day, but it’s… it’s only one part of the broader picture of what I want my life to be. And if… if I ever had to become the leader of the Avengers, it would kind of become the whole picture, I think, and that… that isn’t what I want.” 

Tony hesitated a moment before tugging Peter to him in a hug. Peter went willingly, pressing his face into Tony’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Tony chuckled. 

“You have no reason to be,” he assured. “It - I always knew that you were sort of a loner, doing the sorts of things that you can handle on your own, even when… realistically, you shouldn’t be able to.” Peter snorted, and Tony patted his back. “I’d never try to pressure the Avengers on you. It might have been ideal, once, to you, but clearly, that ideal has shifted, which I can appreciate, and I’m really happy for you, too, because you _ do _ know what you want, and that’s amazing.”

He pushed Peter back again, so that he could look at him. “And to know that we can count on you when we need you, that’s… I appreciate that, too, because you could have said, “Dude, listen, thanks for all this, but I don’t want to be an Avenger at all anymore.” But you didn’t, and that’s fine, too. You’ll be sort of like Ant-Man, in that sense, coming in when we need you. Or like Rhodey. 

“A couple of us don’t have a life outside of the Avengers, or we found our lives within the Avengers. That’s not what happened for you, and I cannot be upset with you for that, because the life that you’ve found, that you want, is fucking awesome. So _ please, _ for God’s sake, don’t apologize for wanting to have a life outside of your superhero-ing.” 

Peter glanced between his eyes. “I just… I feel bad,” he admitted, softly, “because you found a life outside of superhero-ing, too, and it… you lost it, bringing me back.” He shook his head. “I don’t… I feel selfish, because it isn’t fair of me to do the same thing, when you lost yours because of me.”

“Pete, before anything else, I’m Iron Man,” Tony told him. “That - it’s been that way since I realized that the weapons my company was building were destroying lives, and I decided to fix them, instead, to save them. If you don’t want to be Spider-Man before anything else, if you want to be Peter Parker, be a husband, an inventor, a _ dad, _ first, that’s… that’s incredible, and I’ll be so proud of you, either way. This is exactly what I wanted, when I decided to help bring everyone back. For people to live their lives. And you’ve decided on the one that you want, and I couldn’t be happier.” 

Peter lowered his gaze, and Tony grinned. “Kids, huh?” he queried, to lighten the mood, and Peter nodded. “That’s new. Does Cheri know?”

“Listen, this is kind of new even to me, because I hadn’t really thought about it before today, so -”

Tony laughed, and pulled Peter in for another brief hug. “You’re great,” he told him, and let him go. “We should get downstairs.”

Peter nodded, and Tony turned, heading for the door. “Mr. Stark?” He paused, and turned to face the kid again. Peter rubbed his upper arm. “Thank you. For listening to all that. I know it was a lot.”

Tony merely smiled back. “Listening to you rant is my favorite past time,” he assured, and then tilted his head. “C’mon.”

This time, Peter followed. 

Bucky waited for them in the front room, and they all headed out of the guest quarters together. Two Dora Milaje waited to escort them to the dining hall, thankfully, and they followed the warriors down to the elevator. They rode this to the same floor as the council chamber was on, but the warriors led them in the opposite direction, to a set of double doors that were propped open. 

The three of them walked through, Peter relieved to see that Ned was already inside, sitting to the left of Princess Shuri, who sat to the right of the big chair at the head of the long table that filled the majority of the room. Ned grinned at all three of them as they entered, and Peter smiled back. 

He felt much lighter, after his discussion with Tony. The thoughts had weighed heavily on him all day, since his conversation with Bucky. Talking to Cheri on the phone had merely solidified in his mind what he’d known for a while, which was that, before anything, he wanted to marry her, and start a family with her. He wanted to live a normal life with the woman that he loved, with his superhero thing being just a small part of the grander scheme of his life, and would, eventually, probably, be part of his life that phased out, as he got older, and he needed to focus on his family, and his career. Being an Avenger full time, he knew, would not allow for that, so knowing that Tony had no intention of putting him in charge, had no intention of forcing the group on him at all, was a huge relief. 

So, yeah. He felt better, and he thought he could enjoy this dinner, and focus his full attention on getting this vibranium and toxin situation cleared up as soon as possible, so that he could go home to Cheri, go home to his normal life. The life he wanted. 

He took a seat next to Ned, since that made the most sense. Bucky and Tony sat down on the other side of the table. Ned immediately started talking Peter’s ear off about all the things he and Shuri had done in the lab, Peter listened, glad to do so, and interested in it all, too. At one point, he met Shuri’s gaze, and nodded gratefully to her. She merely smiled and shook her head in response, an indication that it hadn’t been any trouble. 

After a few minutes, T’Challa himself arrived, with who Peter could only assume was the queen mother. Everyone at the table stood until they were both seated. T’Challa then wasted no time in beginning a conversation. 

“The Council was able to meet this afternoon,” he began as a first course was brought out. “We all agreed that it does make the most sense to bring W’Kabi back to Wakanda, so that we can question him.” 

“Are you planning to bargain with him?” Tony asked, and T’Challa dipped his head. “With what?” 

T’Challa exchanged a glance with Okoye, who was standing near his shoulder. “The Council has decided that, if W’Kabi provides us with useful information pertaining to the whereabouts of the remaining vibranium, or who stole it in the first place, we will remove the surveillance measures that we have kept on him since he was banished.” 

“That’s… actually not bad,” Tony said after a moment. “I’d take the deal.”

“We think W’Kabi will, also,” T’Challa agreed, reaching for his silverware. “As for the toxin…” He looked to Shuri, who set down her own utensil. 

“It’s not a complicated mixture by any means,” she said. “Tests have shown it is the basic combination of household cleaning bleach and ammonia. Any person with access to cleaning supplies could mix the same thing.” She glanced around at everyone at the table. “I am assuming, then, that it was produced within the box in order to weaken anyone who managed to open the box, rather than to kill a large population of people.”

“So the vibranium is what’s important,” Peter said, and Shuri nodded her agreement. Peter frowned down at his food, wondering if Fisk had known that, and had lied to all of the people who’d wanted to buy the “weapon,” noting the fact that the box it was contained in was made of vibranium in order to hike up the price even further. 

Glancing across the table at Tony, he could see that his mentor was thinking the same thing, and now he looked a little pissed. Peter could guess why. If they’d known that the “weapon” wasn’t the money grab in all this, they could have done more to figure out where Fisk had even gotten the box from. That might have cut out having to use W’Kabi as a middle man, and it would have saved them a lot of time. 

He swallowed the curse that he wanted to mutter, and instead, turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“So our next step is to figure out where W’Kabi is,” Tony was saying. 

“Yes,” T’Challa agreed. “Once we do, we can offer him the deal that we have come up with, and hopefully go from there.”

“And if he doesn’t take the deal?” Bucky asked. “Is there a contingency plan?” 

“As of right now, no,” T’Challa said, “but we are working on it.” 

“Fine, then we’ll get started with trying to locate our guy,” Tony decided. “I’ll get my satellites on it, if you can transfer me his picture, fingerprints, anything that could help identify him in a global database?” 

“Of course,” T’Challa said, nodding to Shuri, who nodded back. 

“Great,” Tony said. “Then we have set goals. Once we find him -”

“We will handle it from there,” Okoye said, inserting herself into the conversation for the first time. “If you identify someone who matches up with his information, you will tell us.”

Tony exchanged a look with Peter across the table. Peter lifted his shoulders a little. It made sense to him that the Wakandans be in charge of bringing the guy in. As far as Peter was concerned, he was ready to head back to New York. His biggest concern had been the supposed weapon. Now that he knew there wasn’t one, he was ready to go home. From what he could tell, Tony could just email them or whatever if there was a match in his system. If they needed to come back in order to actually retrieve the vibranium once they knew where it could be, then he’d be ready to do that. 

Right now, though? He wanted to be back at his apartment with his girlfriend, so he could be at the next doctor’s appointment she had, to get her stitches removed. 

He thought that Tony could tell, too, because his mentor was giving him a knowing look that Peter ignored in favor of enjoying his food. 

“Fine,” Tony said aloud, nodding to both T’Challa and Okoye. “Sounds good. And once we manage to learn information from him, we can talk more about how else the Avengers could be involved in this.”

T’Challa dipped his head, and the queen mother spoke up: “Let us enjoy our meal, and set aside talk while we eat.”

“Good idea, Mother,” T’Challa said, and he turned his attention to his food. 

Dinner passed without any more discussion on the vibranium issue. Peter listened in on the conversation between Shuri and Ned, but didn’t put in much. He could tell that Tony noticed he was staying quiet, but thankfully, his mentor kept it to himself, at least, until after dinner. 

The Avengers party headed back upstairs to the guest quarters together, Ned chatting excitedly the whole way. Bucky ducked into his room once the doors had closed behind the four of them, and Peter loosened the tie Tony had loaned him, exhaling. 

“You doing okay?” Tony asked as Ned disappeared into his and Peter’s room. Peter glanced over at him, and shrugged. 

“Yeah. I was just thinking, at dinner, that maybe we don’t necessarily need to be here?” 

Tony smiled in understanding. “Already ready to go home, huh?” 

Peter nodded, feeling a bit sheepish. “I know that I was excited to come, but it - I don’t know. I’ve been thinking too much about Cheri, how she’s healing, things like that. I’d rather be there with her.” He glanced down. “That _ is _ selfish.”

“Not when there isn’t any reason for us to be here,” Tony admitted, sliding his hands into his pockets. “At least, not you. Since we’re only trying to locate the guy right now, and we won’t even be involved with bringing him in, having you here, and even Bucky here, is pointless.”

“You don’t want to be here alone, though,” Peter said, frowning at him, and Tony shrugged. 

“Really, _ I _ don’t even need to be here,” he said, “but… I don’t know. I feel like I should stick around, just in case things don’t go as planned.” He looked back at Peter. “But if you want to go home, you can. Take the jet. Just, for the love of God, remember what I told you about waiting to propose until Cheri graduates.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning on asking her as soon as I get back to the apartment,” he said, and Tony grinned. 

“I know,” he said, “but you have a ring.” 

“I do,” Peter said. He smiled, too. “It’s really nice, Mr. Stark.”

“I bet,” Tony agreed. He gestured with his head. “Are you going to ask Ned if he wants to go home, too?” 

“You think he does?” Peter queried, an eyebrow raised, and Tony chuckled. 

“No. He and the princess seem to be getting along pretty well.”

Peter shrugged. “They’re both geniuses. I didn’t expect anything different.” He glanced at the watch Cheri had given him, which was still set to New York time, and smiled a little to himself. He looked up at Tony again. “You don’t mind if he stays, do you?”

“Nah,” Tony said. “It’ll be good to have some type of company.” He poked Peter’s shoulder. “But call when you get back, all right? No matter how late it is.” 

“I will,” Peter agreed, and he went into his and Ned’s room to gather his things. Tony went to Bucky’s room, and knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened. 

“What?” Bucky asked, and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sending Peter back to New York. Do you want to go with him?” 

Bucky frowned. “What? Why?” 

“He doesn’t necessarily need to be here, and he said he’d rather be home,” Tony explained. “You don’t need to be here for this part, either, so if you want to go back with him, you can. We can always bring you back in, if necessary, but it might not be.”

Bucky studied him for a moment longer, before sighing. “I’ll stay,” he said, and Tony tilted his head, surprised. “I’d rather be on the scene, in case something happens.”

“What else could happen?” Tony asked.

As he finished speaking, there was a knock on the door of the guest quarters, and they both glanced towards it, before looking at one another. Tony exhaled. “Of course,” he muttered, and then went to open the door.


	78. Versatile Material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers catch the bad guy.

**January 27th, 2024 - Vibranium Shipping Center #3 - Kingdom of Wakanda, Africa - 10:12 PM**

“This has been the longest day of my life,” Peter muttered, crawling across the ceiling of one of the warehouses of the shipping center, sticking to the shadows as much as possible.

“Stop complaining,” Tony replied, speaking into his communication device, which happened to be one of Shuri’s; she’d given them to the three Avengers on loan for this particular venture. Even as he spoke, he could hear the conversation of three workers where they were fifteen yards away from him, loading boxes into a truck. He could even understand them, what with the communicator also being a translator. Still, their conversation was of no interest to him. “Just keep your eyes peeled,” he went on to Peter, sliding on his glasses. 

“For what, exactly?” Bucky queried from his own position outside the warehouse. 

“Anything suspicious looking, I guess,” Tony responded. “I don’t know, do I look like an expert on the goings-on of a vibranium shipping center?” 

Peter sighed a little to himself, mourning the possibility of his leaving that evening, and adjusted his position, examining the floor of the warehouse. From what he could see, it was apparently pretty late for anyone to be working, because he could only spot the three guys that Tony was studying already, and the truck they were loading crates into seemed to be the only vehicle in the warehouse that was actually turned on. It’s headlights glowed against the wall of the building as it idled, waiting patiently to be driven. 

“I don’t see anything,” he said after a moment. 

“Ross said that he received some intel that a shipment might be hijacked,” Tony said. “We’re here to catch it at the source.”

“Well, obviously, they weren’t going to come for the source,” Bucky murmured. “Or, at least, we can conclude that whoever planned on hijacking the shipment isn’t working from the inside.” He crossed his arms, and leaned against the large shipping container that he was standing next to. “I don’t think we’re going to spot anything.”

“Shut up, the conversation between the workers just changed,” Tony said, straightening up a little. 

Peter focused his attention on that part of the channel, and frowned to himself as the communication device automatically translated the conversation into English for him. He saw one of the men pause in his work, reaching for a bottle that Peter hoped contained water. 

“Want a drink?” the guy asked after taking one of his own, and he held it out towards one of his companions, who took it from him, and swallowed some. He spluttered almost instantly, hunching over while the first guy burst into laughter. 

“What _ is _ that?” the second one demanded, wiping at his mouth. 

“A real man’s drink,” the first replied, capping the bottle. “It is smart to have a way to soften the edges, during an overnight shift, no?” 

“Not _ that _ much,” the second said, and the third snorted, joining them, arms crossed. 

“You’re here overnight, then?” he asked the first, who nodded. “Not good.”

“No, not good,” the first agreed. “Here to stand watch, or something.”

“Mm.” The second pushed the last of the boxes into the truck, and then patted the first on the shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah,” the third said. He walked around to the front of the truck, and fiddled with something inside that lowered the door on the back. The headlights flickered off, and the third swung the front door closed, tossing the first guy the key to the truck. “Don’t let it get stolen.”

He and the second walked out of the warehouse. “Do you want me to follow those two?” Bucky asked, watching them walk away towards the city itself. 

“No,” Tony replied, eyes on the first, still. “I think we have our guy here, still. Pete, what’s he doing?”

The first guy had walked around the truck to place that Tony could not see. Peter crawled further down the ceiling until he could see him, and watched as the guy fiddled with a terminal of some kind that was set up near the truck itself. 

“I think he’s communicating with someone,” Peter said, frowning. “I can’t see the screen of the terminal he’s using, but I’m pretty sure -” He cut off as the guy walked back around to the other side of the truck. “Mr. Stark?” 

“Yep, he’s getting in,” Tony responded, jogging towards the door he’d entered the warehouse through. “Bucky?” 

“I see him,” Bucky responded, watching as the truck pulled out of the warehouse, and started up the road away from the main city. “You going after him?” 

“Yeah,” Peter replied, swinging down from the ceiling and joining Tony on the outside of the warehouse. They exchanged a nod, and then started after the truck, Peter swinging along on whatever higher elevated surfaces he could find, while Tony zipped ahead with the boots of his suit. 

“Get back to the Citadel,” Tony said to Bucky. “Let them know that it’s on the move.”

_ “We can hear you already, Stark,” _ Okoye’s voice said through his communicator. _ “We are tracking the truck’s movements right now.” _

“Then what the hell were we doing at the warehouse?” Tony muttered, flying lower to avoid the trees surrounding the road the truck was following. He could hear Peter thwipping along behind him, and was glad that the kid hadn’t been able to get onto the jet before this information had come through. He thought that Peter would be useful, in the coming events. 

_ “You were there to make sure that the truck even left the warehouse in the first place,” _ Okoye said, dryly, _ “and to follow it, once it did. If it does not go where it’s supposed to, then you will take action.” _

“Don’t you love being told how to do our jobs, Pete?” Tony queried.

“Stop it,” Peter answered. “This is what we’re here for, right?” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” he said, dismissively. 

“I think the truck’s slowing down,” Peter said, swinging up into a tree to watch as the truck pulled off to the side of the road. Tony ducked into the trees as well, having to go in deeper than Peter to hide. The only one with a clear visual, Peter made sure to pay close attention. 

The headlights on the truck turned out, and Peter watched the door open. The guy from the warehouse climbed out of it, after making sure to raise the back hatch, first. He then walked around to the rear of the truck, and climbed up into the back, swinging his legs. 

“What is he doing?” Peter muttered, frowning a bit. 

_ “What?” _ Tony asked through his earpiece. 

“He’s just sitting there,” Peter said. The guy had pulled out a book, even. “I think he’s waiting.”

_ “Shit,” _ Tony sighed. _ “That means _ we’re _ waiting, too.” _

Peter blinked against the bright lights of a new pair of headlights that were approaching from the direction that the truck had been driving in. “I don’t think we’ll need to wait long,” he said, scooting back a bit further into the leaves. “Another vehicle’s coming up.” 

The car (it looked like an Audi, maybe) pulled up and stopped parallel to the truck. A big dude in a black suit climbed out from behind the wheel, and walked to the rear door. He pulled it open, and Peter bit back a curse when he saw who climbed out from the back seat. 

“It’s fucking Tiberius Stone,” he murmured. 

_ “You gotta be kidding,” _ Tony hissed back. 

“Shh, they’re talking,” Peter said, and shifted his focus to the conversation that his communicator was now picking up. 

Tiberius Stone had walked over to the dude sitting in the back of the truck, who glanced Stone over a single time before rolling his eyes. “You have money?” he prompted. 

“Of course, my dear man,” Stone responded, and Peter could see the glint of his white teeth in the moonlight. “Rafe?”

The suited man handed over a suitcase, which the warehouse guy took without question. He then hopped down from the truck. “Four crates, yes?” he asked. 

“That was the agreed upon amount,” Stone replied, folding his hands in front of himself. “Help the man transfer the goodies, Rafe.”

Peter watched as warehouse guy and suited dude, Rafe, moved four boxes of vibranium over to the Audi, placing all four into the trunk. Peter was kind of surprised they fit. When they were in, Rafe closed the trunk, and Stone held out his hand to shake the warehouse guy’s. 

“Pleasure as always, sir.”

Warehouse guy shook his hand, and that was it. Rafe opened the back door for Stone again, and he slipped into the Audi once more. Rafe then walked around to the front of the Audi, climbed into the driver’s seat, and the car drove away. 

“What the fuck,” Peter said, quietly. “Should we follow him?” 

_ “Yeah, go,” _Tony said, and Peter immediately headed off after the Audi. He started, however, when there was an explosion behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see smoke blooming up through the treeline. 

“What the fuck?” he asked again, louder this time. 

“The suitcase was rigged,” Tony answered, appearing at Peter’s shoulder. “Blew the whole truck. General?”

_ “We are on our way,” _ Okoye assured. _ “Do not let Stone get away.” _

“We won’t,” Tony responded, and he picked up his flight speed, racing away ahead of Peter after Stone’s car. “Buck, you still by the warehouse?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “You think he’s heading this way?” 

“It’s a straight shot,” Tony said. “Unless they drive off into the trees, it’s the next stop.” 

“Why would he blow up the truck?” Peter asked, mostly to himself. “Doesn’t he think it’ll lead back to him?” 

“No,” Tony said. “It looked like an accident, a malfunction of the truck itself. Faulty wiring. If we hadn’t been watching -”

_ “We would have assumed that it exploded on its own,” _Okoye concluded for him. 

“Right,” Tony said. “Pete, any way you could pick up the pace?”

“I’m only superhuman, Mr. Stark,” Peter retorted. He was actually feeling kind of winded from how fast he was already swinging himself from tree to tree. “Why?”

“It’d just be great if you could, like, stick some of that stuff to the back of this car and force it to a stop,” Tony answered. “Guess I’ll just have to do it, though.”

_ “No, Stark, do not engage,” _Okoye said, sharply. 

“Don’t worry, General,” Tony said, and he increased his elevation a bit, so that he could fly over the Audi. “Tiberius Stone is an old friend.”

He flew around, and landed on the road maybe fifty yards in front of the car. The headlights flashed in his eyes as he lowered the mask of his suit, and the Audi slammed to a stop just before it could run him over. He felt the heat from its front exhaust blow up into his face. 

“Ty,” he said, speaking up so that he would be heard inside the car. 

The back door opened after a moment, and Stone stepped out, resting his arm on the top of the door, smiling. “Tony! And here I was, doing such a good job of not breaching the terms of that lovely restraining order you gave me, and here _ you _are, breaking those terms yourself instead!” He placed his chin in his hand. “What’re you doing here in Wakanda, brother?”

“Stopping whatever bullshit you’re up to,” Tony replied. “What’re you doing with the vibranium?” 

“Does it matter? It’s a very versatile material.” Stone lifted his eyebrow. “But you already know that, don’t you?” 

“Was it you that sold the first set to Fisk?” Tony asked him, and Stone cocked his head to the side. 

“How’d you hear about that?” 

Peter arrived, then, swinging himself over the top of the car, and landing on the road next to Tony. He straightened up, the eyes of his mask narrowing as he took in Stone, whose grin returned. 

“Ah, Spider-Man,” he said. “Of course. You and dearest Wilson have been enemies for years. I should have assumed that, once he was in prison, you’d turn your attention to his son instead.” He rolled his eyes. “And to think, young Richard was so sure he had it handled.” 

“You going to sell this batch to even more crime bosses?” Peter asked. 

Stone laughed. “Because that went so well the first time,” he said, and then he shook his head. “No, this is for some personal projects. Private ones too, I’m afraid, because I’d love to share, but the board would kill me if I did.” He looked at Tony again, smirking. “Of course, maybe we could chat over a drink or three. You know how alcohol gets me to talk.” 

“We’re actually done talking,” Tony decided. “Tell your friend to pop the trunk. We’ll be taking that vibranium.” 

Stone clicked his tongue. “But I spent so much on it,” he said, petulant. 

“Well, it’s that, or you get thrown in a Wakandan holding cell for the next twenty years, instead of a private suite, to await discussion on just what the fuck you were doing,” Tony told him. 

Stone tilted his head back and forth for a moment. “And I suppose you’re suddenly the authority here in Wakanda,” he said, and Tony lifted his gauntleted fist, a repulsor blast building up through the gun on top of it. 

“When necessary,” he said, dryly. 

There was the whirring of engines, then, coming in from behind him, and also from behind Stone’s car. In succession, four sleek motorbikes pulled up, each driven by a Wakandan warrior. All hopped off, and surrounded the vehicle, pointing spears. Stone glanced around at all of them for a moment, before he cleared his throat, and reached up to tug at the collar of his shirt. He looked at Tony. 

“Did you mention a private suite?” he asked, still managing to smile. 

“Well, unfortunately, now that these nice women are here,” Tony said, “I’m no longer the authority.” 

Stone’s smile finally fell from his face, and Tony took just a bit of pride in that fact.


	79. The Authority In Wakanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hearing is held. Stone makes a request.

**January 28th, 2024 - The Citadel - The Kingdom of Wakanda, Africa - 8:23 AM**

Peter yawned, widely, as he stumbled his way out of the room he was sharing with Ned in the guest quarters. He could smell coffee, and he fully intended to get his hands on some of it. Even though, realistically, it did nothing to actually wake him up, it was the psychology of it that worked. 

“Morning, kid.” He blinked his bleary eyes in the direction of Tony’s voice, and then, thankfully, a mug, warm to the touch, was placed into his hands. He murmured a noise that expressed how grateful he was, and sank down onto one of the couches, sipping at the coffee. It was good. 

“Long one yesterday, huh?” Tony queried, sitting down beside him. Peter grunted an affirmation, eyes closed. Tony smiled a little to himself, but decided not to tease the kid. He’d done good, the night before, and deserved to have his morning routine of waking up on his own terms. 

After the shitshow that was finding out Tiberius Stone was the one behind the vibranium being stolen, the man himself had been escorted to the Citadel, where he had been immediately placed into a private, guarded suite. No one had been in to speak with him, but he was set to have a hearing with the Wakandan Council that morning. Tony had been invited, and of course he’d accepted, being the one person within the Citadel who knew Stone personally, and who was pretty sure he could catch Stone in a lie, still. 

Mostly, though, he just wanted to see Stone get reprimanded by a king, of all things. God knew he’d been yelled at by numerous authority figures in their youth, but none were quite as exciting as the idea of King T’Challa giving him a sentence, whatever it would be. A fine to make up for the loss of the vibranium that had been stolen, or something more severe. Tony thought the hearing would be entertaining as all hell. 

Unfortunately, Peter had not been invited, but he didn’t seem to mind that very much. In fact, the kid was already dressed, and Tony could only assume that he still planned to leave on the Avengers’ jet as soon as he was awake enough to keep his eyes open more than a slit. 

“You don’t want to stick around for the end, huh?” Tony asked him, and Peter sighed a little. 

“We got the guy. That’s what we were here for,” he said, and he took another drink of coffee. “Technically, we’re all allowed to go home now.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony said, “but I want to see how this plays out, and I was invited to, so.” He glanced sideways at Peter. “I’m sorry you couldn’t head out last night.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m just glad I won’t be worried about having to come back to deal with whatever came next,” he said, and then he stood, taking the mug with him. “I’m gonna go jump on Ned, get him up.”

“All right,” Tony replied, smiling again. “Don’t hurt him.”

Peter snorted in a way that indicated he would promise no such thing, and ducked into his room again. He flopped down on top of the lump that was Ned, after setting down his mug. Ned hissed beneath him, shifting uncomfortably. 

“Ge’off,” he insisted, trying, unsuccessfully, to tug the blanket up higher, perhaps to get it over his head. “Fi’ more min’s.”

“You need to pack,” Peter retorted, and slid down again, but shoved Ned’s back with his hands. “C’mon. If we’re out of here by ten, we’ll be back by noon New York time.”

“Yes, but,” Ned grumbled, “why don’t we just wait to leave until Mr. Stark can, and arrive in New York at a time closer to dinner?” 

“Because I want to get home,” Peter insisted, walking over to his own bed to fix the covers. “C’mon, Ned.”

Ned did not move, and Peter sighed to himself, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment, before he went back to making the bed. No doubt the sheets would be taken off and washed once they were gone, anyway, but he’d feel better about his visit if he left the place looking clean. 

“Ned,” he insisted once he was done with the bed, but Ned was already snoring again. Peter huffed, and exited the room. Tony was refilling his mug, and he looked sideways at Peter as he sank down on the couch again. 

“Ned’s still sleeping,” he said, unhappily. “He thinks it’s smarter just to wait until you’re done with your stuff, so that we can all go home together.”

Tony finished pouring himself more coffee, and shrugged. “Makes sense to me,” he said, and Peter offered him a look that very clearly said he felt betrayed. Tony smiled. “You can spend the day with the princess in her lab. Isn’t that what you wanted to do, while you were here?” 

Peter gazed at him despondently. “I feel like I shouldn’t have fun, though, when the Council is trying a criminal three floors up.”

Tony chuckled. “It’s in this sort of scenario where you can be glad that you’re not the one in charge,” he said, and then waved his hand. “Do something productive while I have to sit in a meeting all day, most likely unable to get a word in edgewise the entire time, no matter how useful what I have to say will no doubt be. I’ll come find you when it’s over, and we’ll go back to New York.” 

Peter groaned, but all the same slid off the couch and wandered back into his room to put his shoes on. Tony continued to smile to himself as he checked the time. He could probably head to the chamber, now; the hearing was supposed to begin at nine. 

“Pete, I’m walking over there,” he called to the kid, straightening his tie. Peter stuck his head out of his room, one shoe in hand, and Tony saluted him. “Wish me luck.”

“Please don’t ask them to do something to him that you’ll regret later on,” Peter said in response, disappearing again. Tony snorted, and pushed his way out of the guest chambers. If only they’d be willing to listen to him at all. 

He was unsurprised to find two warriors waiting to escort him. He was actually kind of glad they were there, because he definitely would have gotten lost if he’d tried to find his way on his own, and if he’d shown up late, they probably wouldn’t have let them inside. So, he let the Dora Milaje lead him to the council chamber, where he was then directed to a chair outside the circle of seats that waited the Council members themselves. There was a seat for the queen mother, too, and she showed up maybe ten minutes after he did, escorted by her own warrior. 

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” she said to him as he rose and bowed a little to her. She settled down into the seat beside his with a sigh. “If only we were able to deal with things like this without all the ceremony. It is tradition, but one that has not been needed to be upheld for many years. Decades, even.”

“It’s not very often when an outsider’s the one to commit crimes, hm?” Tony asked, and she shook her head. 

“The last was dealt with at the same time W’Kabi was banished from Wakanda,” she told him, “just not by us.” 

Tony decided not to ask about that. It seemed as though she’d rather not talk about it further. 

Thankfully, they did not have to sit in silence for long. The Council began to arrive, and Tony did his best not to stare at any of them, and especially not the man dressed in green with the disc in his lip. He wondered what sort of tradition that reflected back to. 

T’Challa arrived last, walking into the room without much fanfare, which Tony admired. He settled down in his throne, the biggest chair out of all of the seats, and the rest of the room sat down after him. T’Challa then nodded to Okoye, who in turn nodded to the two Dora Milaje standing near the doors. They turned to them, and pulled them both open. 

Pushed along ahead of two more Dora Milaje came Tiberius Stone. He was bound at the wrists, which Tony thought fulfilled at least one of his kinks, on a good day. Stone walked into the room with as much dignity as he could despite the shackles on his wrists, and one of the warriors tugged him to a halt just outside the circle, where he could face all of the Council members at the same time. His eyes found Tony almost at once, and he winked, smirking all the while. 

Tony tried to maintain a neutral expression in response, but who could judge him if just the tiniest bit of disgust broke through his resolve and made itself apparent on his face? 

“Tiberius Stone,” T’Challa began, and Stone turned towards him instead, the smirk still on his face. T’Challa did not react to it. “You have been brought before the Wakandan Council to face a hearing for crimes that you have committed against the kingdom, as well as countless others whom your actions have affected.” 

“And my crimes would be…?” Stone prompted, tilting his head. 

“The hijacking of at least two shipments of vibranium meant to be distributed as aid to struggling nations around Africa,” T’Challa said. “You are also responsible for the death of at least one Wakandan, and the destruction of a Wakandan vehicle.”

“Well, those I’ll admit to,” Stone said. “But I didn’t steal any vibranium.” 

There was a rise of dissent in the room almost immediately. Tony noticed the queen mother shift beside him in her chair, straightening her posture just a bit as she stared at Stone through narrowed eyes. 

“You do not admit to stealing close to two tons of vibranium in the past months, and distributing it across the United States?” T’Challa asked him. 

“I did not steal the vibranium,” Stone repeated. There was an emphasis on each syllable. “I paid for what came to be in my possession. The man that was killed last night was the one to steal it.”

“You embezzled Wakandan vibranium into the United States and illegally distributed it -”

“I didn’t _ embezzle _ anything,” Stone said, “and it wasn’t illegal distribution, either. Everyone who received the vibranium paid _ me _ for it.” He sighed a little. “If it’s a matter of you missing out on profit, I’d be glad to share some of what I’ve made with you.”

“You -”

T’Challa held up a hand to silence the Council member who’d begun to speak. “Mr. Stone, whatever money you paid for the vibranium does not erase the fact that it was stolen, and the very fact that you paid for it gives the Council reason to believe that it was only stolen for your sake, which puts you at the forefront of this. You are responsible, and must face the consequences of your actions.” 

Stone sighed a little. “With all due respect, King T’Challa,” he began, “you cannot expect to imprison me here in Wakanda. People will wonder where I am, and eventually, it will bring them here.” He leaned forward a bit. “I doubt you want that.”

T’Challa leaned back in his throne. “Be assured, Mr. Stone, that we have no intention of imprisoning you here in Wakanda,” he said. 

The doors to the chamber opened again, and in strolled Everett Ross, hands in his pockets, looking as though he had all the time in the world. Tony rolled his eyes a little, but had to admit that the drama of the entrance was pretty good. 

“Tiberius Stone,” Ross said, walking around the outside of the circle of chairs and stepping up on T’Challa’s left. “Good to see you again.”

“Agent Ross,” Stone said. There was some tension in his jaw, Tony noticed, and bit back a gleeful smile. “I didn’t know it was time for your yearly vacation.” 

“I’m here on business, actually,” Ross said, “and it looks like you’re it.” He glanced at T’Challa. “It’s all been cleared. The crimes were against Wakanda; it’s up to you to try and sentence him.”

T’Challa turned to Stone again, a small smile on his own face. Tony relaxed a bit in his chair, crossing his arms. 

“You will not be tried as a Wakandan citizen,” T’Challa said, “and as such, we will not imprison you here. However, if you are found guilty by this Council, and you are sentenced to imprisonment, you will be held for the correct period of time in an institution in the United States.” He tilted his head. “Agent Ross is here to be sure of that.”

Stone inhaled and exhaled, slowly. “Very well,” he said, “since we’re doing things by the book.” He paused, seemingly to consider his options. Tony waited, scooting forward in his chair. 

After a very long moment, Stone spoke: “I am guilty. I did murder a Wakandan, which is enough to see me put into prison alone. I did conspire against Wakanda, to procure vibranium for my personal sale and use.” He bowed his head. “I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. I only ask that you allow me a single request.”

T’Challa frowned, and glanced around at his Council. They exchanged looks of confusion, and distrust. Okoye tilted her head in response to the silent question T’Challa asked her, and T’Challa dipped his head, turning once more to Stone. 

“You may ask it,” he said, “but we cannot guarantee we will grant it.” 

Stone glanced up again. “Thank you,” he said, “but it is not something that you can grant me.” He turned towards Tony, who straightened up again. “Tony?” 

“He’s not part of this,” Ross stated, stepping forward, but T’Challa put out his hand, blocking his path. The king then glanced towards Tony, who lifted his chin a bit, and faced Stone. 

“What?” he asked him. 

Stone looked around at the Council for a moment, and Tony thought that there was a look of embarrassment on his face. He frowned, not liking the possibilities of where that could lead whatsoever. If he was about to ask that Tony remove the restraining order, Tony was prepared to walk out of the room without offering even a negative response. 

He should have known, however, that Stone would not request anything so obvious of him. 

Stone blinked a few times, adopting that look that had gotten Tony to do plenty of things in the past. It was a mixture of desperation, need, and, like, just enough begging without making him look completely ridiculous. Tony hated the expression on him. 

“Tony, I - I need to meet my daughter,” he said, softly. “I want to meet Cheri. _ Really _meet her.”

Tony’s eyes widened. He was unsure of what he was going to do until he stood, and walked towards where Stone was. He saw the Dora Milaje straighten up at his movement, their fists tightening around their spears, but they did not approach. 

Tony stopped in front of Stone, who glanced between his eyes, clearly waiting for him to speak. Instead of that, however, Tony responded to his request by sending a fist into his jaw. Stone stumbled sideways, groaning, and Tony couched down next to him. 

“How fucking dare you?” he demanded, voice low. “How fucking _ dare _ you even _ think _ that I’d let you near her?” 

“Mr. Stark, that is enough,” T’Challa said, sharply. Stone spat out some blood onto the floor, and let a Dora Milaje haul him back up into a standing position. Tony couldn't care less what they did with him, however. He headed towards the doors of the chamber, despite the calls of his name, and he pushed his way through them without looking back.


	80. Time To Go: The Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony rushes everyone out of Wakanda. Everyone wonders why. The answer may surprise you!

**January 28th, 2024 - The Citadel - The Kingdom of Wakanda, Africa - 9:32 AM**

“So… the unlimited range is just about establishing a network that only the devices are connected to?” Peter asked, and Shuri nodded. 

“It’s universal, which means that the communicators work in tandem with one another, no matter how far the distance between them, so long as they are connected to the same channel,” she explained. She held up one of them. “That same network is how you can listen in on conversation, too. The communicator connects to multiple devices that can pick up audio, and transmit that audio to the user.” 

Peter shook his head. “That’s incredible.”

“Eh, it is not foolproof,” Shuri said. “There are places where they cannot connect; I’ve been trying to find my way around those instances, but each network is different, which makes it difficult.”

Peter took the communicator she was holding, and held it up. “It’s almost like you need to develop an adapter,” he said after a moment. 

A crease appeared between Shuri’s eyebrows. “Something that would alter itself to suit whatever network was relative to the location,” she said, and Peter nodded. She looked at him again, and grinned. “Not bad.”

Peter lifted his shoulders. “I’m not as smart as Ned when it comes to this type of tech stuff, but I know enough.” He gestured towards where Ned was fiddling with her sand table. “Has he been a lot of work?”

“No,” Shuri said. “I appreciate his company, and he’s provided a lot of helpful insight.” She tilted her head. “It will be interesting to see what he’s able to create on his own, with what he’s learned here.” 

There were footsteps coming down the ramp leading into the lab, then, and they both turned in that direction in time to see Tony step off of it. He cast a single look around before searching the space, and settling his gaze on Peter. He jerked his head, and Peter frowned to himself, not liking the expression on his mentor’s face. 

“Sorry,” he said to Shuri. “Give me a second.”

She shrugged, and walked over to the sand table as well. Peter approached Tony, who had his arms crossed, and looked ready to murder.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked him. “Is the hearing over already?” 

“I left early,” Tony said. “We’re heading back to New York.”

“What, right now?” Peter questioned, blinking. “I thought -”

“I don’t want to stick around for the rest,” Tony told him. “You were ready to go an hour ago, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, just - I’m wondering why _ you _ suddenly want to go,” Peter replied, carefully. “What happened?”

“Why does something need to have happened?” Tony demanded, spreading his hands. “It’s just time to go; we finish our job here. C’mon.” He looked past Peter. “Ned! Let’s go, we’re leaving.”

Ned glanced up, surprise and frustration on his face. “But -”

“Now, Ned,” Tony said, sharply, and he started back up the ramp. “Both of you, come on.”

Ned sighed a little, clearly upset, but all the same he walked away from the sand table, and up the ramp after Tony, calling "By, Princess. Thank you," over his shoulder, sounding despondent.

Peter looked once more at Shuri, who lifted an eyebrow. Peter could only offer her a shrug in response. “Sorry,” he said to her, again. “Thank you, though, really.”

With that, he turned and followed his friend and mentor up the ramp, and down the hall at the top of it, leading to the closest elevator. “Mr. Stark,” he said, jogging a little to catch up with him. “What’s -”

“Not here,” Tony said, lowly, stepping into the elevator first. “Once we’re on the jet.”

Peter frowned. Now he was really worried. What the hell had happened in the hearing that had caused this sort of reaction? Had they let Stone off easy? He doubted it, considering how much vibranium he’d taken, on top of the death he’d caused the night before. 

What else was there, though? 

**10:02 AM**

“I don’t think this is the best choice,” Bucky said, following Tony out out of the Citadel towards where their jet waited. “We should at least let them know we’re leaving.”

“They know,” Tony said without looking at him, and he climbed up into the jet, holding his bag in front of him. Bucky glanced back at Peter, who merely shrugged in response to the look, because he had no idea what was going on with Tony, either. 

Bucky exhaled, and climbed into the jet. Peter turned to look at Ned, who was gazing back at the Citadel, a frown on his face. Peter reached out, and placed a hand on Ned’s shoulder. 

“Come on, dude,” he said, quietly. 

“Will we ever come back, though?” Ned asked, glancing at him. 

“I don’t know,” Peter replied, honestly. 

Ned’s shoulders fell, and he solemnly boarded the jet ahead of Peter, who did not look back as he climbed up the stairs. The door closed behind him, and he heard the jet engines whir as he walked to the main cabin, and sank down into a seat, buckling the seat belt over his waist. 

“I’ll explain everything once we’re off the ground,” Tony said to the three of them from his own seat, and then he turned his gaze out the window at his shoulder. 

The jet took off, and gained elevation. Tony remained tense until they were clear of the protective shield around Wakanda. Once they’d breached it, he let out a breath, and his eyes closed, his head resting against the wall of the jet over the window. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter started as the seat belts on sign flickered off. He unbuckled his, and then moved across the small gap between the seats to take the one next to Tony instead. “What the hell is going on?” he asked, trying for patient and calm, and succeeding, if only minimally. 

Tony glanced at him. “Stone asked for a request, after admitting his guilt,” he said, “but it wasn’t a request of T’Challa, or the Council. It was directed at me.”

“And?” Peter questioned. “Did he want you to remove the restraining order? Or did he want to know who I am?” 

“No,” Tony said. His eyes closed again. “He said he wanted to meet his daughter.”

Peter blinked. He did not have to be as smart as Shuri to understand who Stone thought his daughter was, especially if he was requesting to meet her through Tony. “He thinks -?”

“I guess so,” Tony said, quietly. “There are ways to find out for sure, but…” He trailed off, and sighed. “Do we want to? If he ends up imprisoned, we could take that time to take steps to make sure that they’ll ever meet one another. Do we want _ her _ to know?” 

Peter leaned back in his seat, facing forward. He stared blankly into the middle distance, trying to process all of the information that was currently racing through his head. Stone thought that Cheri was his daughter. Obviously, there was a reason for him to feel that way. They’d no doubt be able to figure out that reason for themselves, once they were home. 

But Tony was right in asking if they wanted to know. If they wanted Cheri to know. Since Stone was probably going to end up in prison, anyway, what did it matter? He’d never see Cheri, and she wouldn’t need to see him, if she didn’t want to. After hearing about what he’d done, Peter doubted that she _ would _ want to. 

He closed his eyes. But could he keep it from her? If he did learn that Stone was right, that he _ was _ Cheri’s father, could Peter keep the fact that he knew away from her? Knowing that she’d wanted to know about her father for a very long time? 

She would not feel the same way if she knew who he was, however. That much Peter was sure of. 

“Fuck,” he muttered at last, opening his eyes again. He stared up at the top of the jet. “Fuck!” 

“I know,” Tony murmured from beside him. There was a moment of silence. “Maybe it’s better if we forget it entirely.” 

“But _ can we?” _Peter asked, desperate. He turned to look at his mentor, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t - even the possibility -”

Tony reached out and cupped the back of Peter’s neck. “Listen to me,” he said, speaking slowly and deliberately. “It’s better for Cheri if she _ never _ finds out, even if it isn’t true.” 

Peter glanced between his eyes. “But you think it is,” he said, softly. “You think he could actually be her dad.”

“You’ve seen her necklace, Peter.” Peter looked away, and Tony squeezed the back of his neck. “Not a lot of people can afford something like that. Stone could, and he loved to give gifts, even to women he spent a single night with.” 

“But -”

“I know,” Tony said. “It doesn’t make sense how he could be part of Cheri, but… I think that he might be, however much we wish that he wasn’t.” He met Peter’s gaze again. “But she doesn’t need to know. It’s _ better _ if she doesn’t.” 

Peter swallowed painfully. “I can’t keep it from her, Mr. Stark,” he managed. “I can’t. Not this.”

Tony stared at him for a moment longer, and then he closed his eyes, and removed his hand from the back of Peter’s neck. “I know,” he said, gently. “It was unfair to even suggest it.” He shook his head. “It’d just be a lot easier for us if you could.”

“Sorry,” Peter said, quietly, and Tony forced a chuckle. 

“She’ll want to know,” Ned said, speaking up for the first time. They both glanced at him, and he lifted his shoulders. “Either way, she’ll want to know.” 

“And she deserves to know, now that we have an idea,” Tony sighed. He glanced out the window again, and made up his mind. “But first, we need to talk to her mother.”

Peter cursed again, falling back into his seat. “Of course,” he said. He cringed. “I am not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Probably better if I handle it,” Tony replied, hanging his head between his hands. “God, I need a drink.” 

“Me too,” Peter mumbled tiredly, knowing that it wouldn’t help at all, but desiring the idea of the effects nonetheless. 

Bucky didn’t bother saying anything as he prepared them both glasses of whisky at the wet bar beyond the jet’s tiny bathroom. He could understand the need, and they had a long flight ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer surprises everyone on the plan, but mayhap no one who read this chapter.


	81. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's home. Tony immediately leaves again.

**January 28th, 2024 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate NY, USA - 12:32 PM**

“I know this is kind of short notice -”

“Kind of?” Isabel scoffed. “Tony, I have lectures tomorrow, and I’m already behind, considering I started work after the semester had already started!” 

“I know,” Tony said into his phone, “but _ you _know I wouldn’t be asking this of you unless it was important. I can meet you on campus, and I’ll make it as short as I can, but… you’ll probably want it to take longer than that, considering.” 

“What _ is _ it?” Isabel asked him. He could hear papers shuffling from her end of the line. “You’re asking to take up a chunk of my day with an out-of-the-blue meeting, and you haven’t even told me what we’d be meeting _ about.” _

Tony sighed, and set his suitcase down on his bed, in his suite. “That’s because it really isn’t something I want to say over the phone, which is why I’m asking to meet you,” he said. “Please, Isabel. It has to do with Cheri.”

“I talked to Cheri this morning, she was fine,” Isabel said. There was a moment of silence, which Tony let happen, allowing her to think. “Ah,” she said at last, her voice lowered. “She does not know.”

“No,” Tony agreed, quietly. “She doesn’t know, and depending on how our conversation goes, she might continue to not know.”

Isabel exhaled. “Fine,” she said. “Come, and we’ll talk. When will you be here?” 

“As soon as possible,” Tony answered. “Thank you.”

“That’s vague,” she sighed, and he managed a smile. 

“I know, I’m sorry, but we just got back from Wakanda, and it’s - y’know.”

“Right. Fine. I’ll be expecting you. Bye.”

“Bye,” he said, and he lowered his phone, relieved. The sooner that he could have this conversation with Isabel, the sooner he could let Peter know what he would be able to do, which would be a big weight off of both of their shoulders. 

As such, the next number he dialed was one that he was much more familiar with, and the voice that answered reflected that same notion. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, buttercup,” Tony said, smiling despite the situation. “How quickly can you get to the Compound?” 

Stephen’s response was visual, and came in the form of the orange sparks that accompanied a portal. It formed within seconds, and then Stephen was stepping through it, grinning, phone still held to his ear. 

“Instantly,” he said, and lowered the phone. Tony had already tossed his to the bed, and now he approached Stephen and wrapped his arms around him, inhaling. Stephen hugged him back, still smiling; Tony could feel it against the top of his head. 

“You were gone for two days,” he said, patiently. “Less, even.”

Tony chuckled, and withdrew, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Stephen’s mouth. “I know,” he said, pulling back. “But some shit went down. I’d love to stay here with you, but I actually asked you to come for a different selfish reason.”

Stephen’s smile faded. “What is it?” he asked, brow furrowed. 

“Could you build me a portal to Empire State University?” Tony asked, sheepishly. “I need to meet with Cheri’s mom, about something pretty important.” 

Stephen studied him for a moment. “I guess you can’t tell me what it is beforehand?” he asked, and Tony shook his head. 

“Private stuff.” 

“All right,” Stephen said, and he held up his hands, circling one. A portal opening up onto ESU’s campus formed beyond it, and Stephen gestured towards it with his head. Tony grabbed his wrist and kissed him again. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll explain everything, I promise. I just need to do this, first.”

“It’s fine,” Stephen said, and he smiled a bit. “Go.”

Tony ducked through the portal. It closed behind him at once, and he glanced around. A couple of students were gaping at him, and he waved them off, tugging the jacket he wore closer to himself as he approached someone who looked like they knew their way around campus. 

“Where’s the math building?” he asked, and they pointed him in the right direction, barely looking up from their phone. Tony headed that way, dodging snow drifts that lined the pathways as he went. He should’ve changed into boots before leaving the Compound. 

He made his way into the correct building, stamping snow off his shoes, and glanced around. He wasn’t entirely sure of where to go from here, but he spotted a directory on a wall nearby, and he stepped forward to read it, in order to orientate himself. He noted that offices for the mathematics department were up on the third floor, and he sighed, wearily, but started for the closest staircase. 

As he walked past the elevator that was next door to the staircase, the doors slid open, and he glanced halfheartedly towards it, wishing that he had elevator privileges, and wondering if he should start using the stairs in the Compound more frequently. He almost didn’t realize that the person stepping out of the elevator was the one he’d come to see. 

“Tony?” Isabel asked in surprise, and he paused, turning fully towards the elevator. There she was, practically Cheri’s doppelganger, holding a large stack of papers and gaping at him. “How -?”

“Wizard,” Tony said, absently, walking towards her instead. “It’s not a big deal. Are you -?”

“On my way to class? Yes,” she answered, adjusting her grip on the stack. Tony took it from her without asking, but she let him, sighing a little. “They just kind of tossed me into it, even though I was only officially hired two days ago. The professor I took over for left sooner than they’d expected him to.” She shook her head, brushing back one of her curls with the heel of her hand. “I have a catch-up lecture for some transfer students for the next hour. We could talk after?” 

“Sure,” Tony said, following her lead towards the room that she would be teaching in. “You don’t mind if I lurk in the back of the classroom?”

Isabel smiled tiredly. “As long as you don’t take over the class,” she said. 

Tony didn’t think he had the energy to do such a thing. He followed her into the classroom, which was already filled with a number of students. Tony handed her the stack of papers, and then snuck to the rear of the classroom, settling down in a seat at the very back, where he hopefully wouldn’t be noticed. 

He fully intended to take advantage of the hour-long lecture to catch a nap, but found that he was unable to pull his attention away from Isabel, once she started to teach. He could see very clearly that she hadn’t been kidding, when she’d told him that teaching was her passion. She was made for it. If Cheri was anything like her mother within a classroom setting, Tony had no doubts that she herself would make an amazing teacher, too. 

As such, he sat upright throughout the entire class, listening as she explained the basics of college algebra to the students, who did not seem as enthused by the topic as Tony was, no doubt because it was an introductory course, and they were only there because it was a required class for the university, or because their credits hadn’t transferred from whatever college they’d been at before. It probably didn’t help that they were spending time in class on a Sunday, either. 

Still, when it ended, none of them looked as though they wanted to die, which Tony thought said something about how well Isabel taught. He walked to the front of the classroom to join her as kids filed out through the doors on either side of the room. Some did a double-take when they saw him, but Tony pretended not to notice any of them doing so. 

“That was really good,” he told Isabel, who glanced over at him, smiling a bit. 

“I wanted to be a teacher my whole life,” she said, and shrugged a little. “Some people are just born to do certain things, I think.” She picked up the papers, and gestured. “Should we go up to my office? I can start some coffee for us.”

“That’d be great,” Tony agreed, and held out his hand. “After you.”

He followed her to the elevator (thank _ God) _ and then down a short hall to her office, which she unlocked with a silver key. The nameplate was missing; she explained to him that it would be up by next week. 

“They have other things to worry about aside from putting my name on the door,” she said, and pushed the door open. “C’mon in.” 

Tony walked into the office, and glanced around. It was about the size of a closet, and not even a big one, if he was being frank, but she’d already personalized it to where it was a comfortable space. There were several photos sitting on her desk, and he smiled at one of Cheri, smiling at the camera from where she sat on a piano bench. Tony vaguely noted that he’d never actually heard her play the piano; maybe he could invest in a piano for the Compound. She could earn tips.

“Sit,” Isabel suggested, nodding to the chair in front of the desk. She set down the papers, and walked around the desk to the shelf behind it, which held a coffee pot. “I don’t have any milk, this time around.”

“Black is good,” Tony said, sinking down in the chair. “You might not even let me stick around to finish it, after I tell you what I need to, so.” 

Isabel glanced at him after starting the coffee, frowning. “Then maybe you should keep it to yourself,” she said, but didn’t sound as though she meant it. 

He sighed a little. “I’d like to,” he said, “but… I don’t think that’s the best choice, considering the circumstances.” He folded his hands in his lap, and tried to figure out the best way to start the conversation. He supposed that he could start with the beginning. 

“So… we were in Wakanda, to help them figure out what had happened to a shipment that had been stolen,” he said. “You might’ve read about that.”

“I did,” Isabel agreed, settling down in her desk chair. “By we, you mean you and Peter?”

He nodded. “Long story short, we learned who was responsible, last night, and this morning, I was invited to this person’s hearing, to figure out what the Wakandan Council would do to them.”

Isabel exhaled. “I feel as though you aren’t telling me this person’s name for a reason other than that you simply can’t,” she said, and Tony drew his lower lip between his teeth, squinting a bit. Isabel leaned back in her chair. “Are you worried I’ll react badly to a _ name?” _

“Yes,” he admitted, quietly. 

She turned her eyes towards the ceiling for a moment. Behind her, the coffee pot bubble intensely in its last stages of brewing. 

“Tony,” she began, “just say it. If it’s who I think it is, I can assure you that enough years have passed to the point where it is difficult for me to give a shit.” 

Tony glanced downwards, twiddling his thumbs. “Tiberius Stone,” he said, studying the floor. 

“I knew it,” Isabel murmured. He heard her stand again, and fiddle with the coffee pot, filling two cups with the liquid. She slid one across the desk towards him. He had to smile when he saw it said ‘#1 Mom’ on the side of it. Isabel sat back down, sighing a little. “Then I suppose what we’re here to discuss is… fairly obvious.”

“Is it true?” Tony asked her, lifting his gaze to hers. Isabel lifted her shoulders, in the middle of taking a drink, and set her mug down on her desk. 

“Do you believe it is?” 

“I think that… there’s a solid chance of it being true, yeah,” he admitted. “But… there’s a story, I’m sure, and I… I wanted to give you the chance to tell it to me, before I decided on anything else.”

Isabel ran her thumb along the rim of her mug, studying the framed picture of Cheri. After a moment, she said, “Ty is Cheri’s father. The year before she was born, he was a guest lecturer at MIT, where I was finishing up my graduate program. We had a pretty serious relationship throughout the spring semester that ended in June, after graduation. I found out six weeks later that I was pregnant.” 

Tony turned his eyes away again. He didn’t know what to say. He settled on the obvious: “He didn’t know?”

“No,” Isabel said, softly. “I never heard from him again.” There was a moment of silence, and then she went on, “Do you have any idea as to how he found out?” 

He’d actually been thinking about this, and thought he knew. “Cheri and I ran into him, last September,” Tony responded. “She introduced herself. He might’ve made the connection based on her last name, and… y’know, did some digging.” He shook his head. “Meaning that it’s my fault he even knows about her.”

“It is not your fault,” Isabel told him. “It could have happened at any point throughout her life, or it may not have happened at all.” Tony glanced at her, and saw she was still studying her desk. “I assume you’re here to ask if you can tell Cheri.”

“If Peter can tell Cheri,” Tony clarified. “He knows, too, and he isn’t sure that he can keep it from her.”

Isabel closed her eyes for a moment. “I wouldn’t expect him too,” she admitted. “I was foolish to think I could keep it from her for her whole life; she was bound to find out in some way or another.” She glanced at Tony. “That was the reason I didn’t want you around, because I thought that you and Ty were close, still.”

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head. “We haven’t been for over a decade.”

Isabel nodded. “I figured as much when I found out you’d placed a restraining order against him.” Tony tried for a smile, but found that he couldn’t. Isabel didn’t look as though she blamed him. She shrugged a bit, and lifted her mug, taking a long drink of the coffee inside of it. When she lowered the cup again, it was half-empty. 

“It may be better if she hears it from me, first,” she said after a moment. 

“She might appreciate it,” Tony agreed. “But… if you’d rather not do it alone, Peter and I can be there.”

She offered him a grateful look. “I think Cheri might be more appreciative of that than me, but thank you, all the same.” She glanced at her watch. “We could do dinner, perhaps? At their apartment?” 

“Sure, I’ll check with them and let you know,” Tony offered, and Isabel nodded in agreement. 

“Thank you, Tony, for bringing this to me, first. You could have gone straight to Cheri, and you didn’t.” 

Tony lifted his shoulders, standing up and reaching across the desk to shake her hand. “I’m still trying to get you to like me, so.” 

She stood as well, laughing a little, and shook his hand. “Text me, when you hear from the kids.”

“I will. Have a good rest of your day,” Tony told her. “Mold those minds.”

“I’ll try my best,” Isabel said, and she closed the door of her office behind him, once he was out in the hall. Tony exhaled a breath that was more relief than anything, and made his way downstairs, not minding that he had to take the actual stairs, this time. 

Once he was outside the building, he pulled out his phone, and decided to call Cheri, first, since Peter and Ned would still be on their way back to the city. 

“Mr. Stark!” she said, cheerfully, upon answering the phone, but then there was an instantaneous change to her tone when it really sank in that she was on the phone with him. “Wait, why are you calling me? Is Peter okay? What happened?”

“Peter’s fine,” Tony said, smiling a bit despite himself. “We’re actually back in New York. I guess he didn’t let you know because he wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You’re back already?” she asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah, it’s all taken care of over in Wakanda. We did our part.” He slid his free hand into the pocket of his jacket, and glanced around for a moment. The campus was deserted, no doubt most students were inside somewhere, not having class on a Sunday. “So, listen, your mom and I were wondering if you and Peter could host us for dinner tonight. We have something we need to talk to you about.” 

Cheri was silent for a moment. “Jesus,” she said at last, “you’re not going to tell us that you’re in love, are you?”

Tony actually laughed at that. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“Yeah, no, I am not in love with your mom,” he assured. “It’s… it’s something different, and you’re kind of the one we really need to talk to. Peter sort of already knows.” Tony paused. “Okay. Really, it’s just your mom that needs to talk to you, and Pete and I are going to be there for emotional support.”

“Not really helping me feel better, Mr. Stark,” Cheri said, carefully, and Tony ducked his head, grinning. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “But, anyway. Dinner?”

“Yeah, I - that should be fine.” She paused. “Do we have to kick Ned and Harry out?” 

“I think that’s up to you,” Tony replied. 

“Okay.” He heard her exhale. “Uh. Any requests for food?”

Tony chuckled. “No, cook whatever’s easiest, you’re the one with the head injury. We’ll probably be doing more talking than eating, anyway.” He kicked at some snow. “I’m gonna head to the Tower and get some work done. We’ll be at your apartment around seven?”

“All right. Is Peter on his way home?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Uh, for my sake, act surprised when you see him?”

“I will,” Cheri said. He could tell that she was smiling. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah. Try not to overthink it, okay?” Cheri merely snorted, and Tony smiled again. “Bye, Peanuts.”

“Bye.”

He lowered the phone, and turned his gaze upwards, blinking. Clouds had moved in, and snow was beginning to fall, light flakes, barely there. They settled on his shoulders and melted away immediately. Tony sent a text to Isabel, letting her know the plan, and then he headed for the closest subway station that would get him to Columbus Circle. Why waste a day in the city? Maybe Stephen would be willing to join him in his penthouse for an hour or two. He felt as though he deserved it. 


	82. Over Spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is held, and Spider-Man makes a choice.

**January 28th, 2024 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 2:02 PM**

Peter turned his key in the lock on the front door, suppressing a yawn into his shoulder. Behind him, he could hear Ned yawning as well, and he shot his friend a smile. “Jet lag’s the worst, huh?” he asked. 

“Yeah, sucks,” Ned replied, eyes half-lidded. 

Peter chuckled, and opened the door, pulling his key back out. Ned shuffled into the apartment ahead of him, dragging his suitcase along behind him. Peter followed, closing the door and locking it again from inside. When he turned, he was forced to drop his luggage in favor of catching Cheri, who flew into his arms, locking her own around his neck. 

“Hey,” he said, unable to keep from smiling and immediately burying his face in her hair as he lifted her off the floor, holding her tightly. 

“You came back so soon!” she said into his shoulder. She lifted her head, and pulled back from him as much as he would allow, grinning. “I’m impressed.”

“We kind of got lucky,” Peter admitted. “The dude who stole the first batch came back for more, and we caught him in the act.”

“Wow,” Cheri said. She kissed him, deeply, before hugging him again. “I still missed you, though.”

“I missed you too, Treble,” he said, feeling a little winded after that kiss. He set her back down on the floor, but did not let her move away. He studied her expression, noting the crease between her brows. Something was on her mind. “But… why do I feel like you have something to tell me?” 

Cheri frowned a bit. “Mr. Stark called earlier, and asked if he and my mom could come over for dinner,” she said. Peter blinked. “He said that she has something she wants to talk to me about, and that you two are going to be there for moral support?”

Peter exhaled a breath, and tugged her over to the couch. “Yeah,” he said, sitting down. Cheri plopped herself down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and watching his face closely. “It - well. I’d tell you, but it’s better if we just wait. It’s kind of like how you didn’t want to tell me about Tony; it's something that really should come from your mom.”

“Oh,” Cheri said, and she glanced down. “Okay.” 

Peter slid his arms around her waist, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Peter could hear Ned unpacking in his room. “Is Harry at work?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Cheri responded, sighing. “He left me here all by myself.” 

“Surprised he went in on a Sunday,” Peter said. 

“He’s still being given the introductory course,” she said, “which is apparently easier to do over the weekend?” She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t really get it, but hey, it’s not my job.”

Peter chuckled, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What’re we going to make for dinner?” he asked her. 

“Dunno,” Cheri said. “Mr. Stark said not to stress about it too much.” She considered. “We could just do, like, spaghetti. That’s kind of a no stress meal.”

“I think that sounds good,” Peter said. “Do we have the stuff to make spaghetti?” 

“Pretty sure.” Cheri pulled away from him and started for the kitchen. Peter followed, mostly because he didn’t want to be away from her, but also because he knew it would be his job to go get the stuff necessary if they didn’t have the makings for spaghetti. 

Thankfully, they were stocked. “Sauce, noodles.” Cheri peered into the cabinet she had opened, nodding to herself. “The basics.” 

“I think we could make a salad, too, if you wanted,” Peter said, after tugging open the fridge. They had a head of lettuce, and some tomatoes they could cut up. 

“Might be a nice side dish,” she agreed, and scooted up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. Peter smiled to himself, and closed the fridge again. “Pete?” 

“Mhm?”

“Do you think… it’d be safe for us to have sex… even though I still have stitches in my head?” 

Peter laughed. “I’m gonna say no, unfortunately,” he said, turning around. She hummed unhappily, and he slipped his arms around her again. She lifted her head and looked at him, and Peter grinned down at her. “The thought was a good one, though, I’ll give you that.”

She smiled back, and adjusted their stance, so that she had her hands on his shoulders instead. Peter smirked as they started to sway in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Are we dancing?” he asked her. 

“Just a little,” she murmured in response, locking her fingers together behind his neck. “Can’t you hear the music?” 

He could, which was unsurprising, considering who she was, and how their entire relationship seemed to have a type of musicality to it. He spun them, and Cheri’s smile grew as she leaned up on her toes and kissed him, gently. 

“It’s like we’re at prom,” she murmured, and Peter laughed again. 

“My prom sucked.”

“So did mine,” she admitted. “Both of them. I should’ve known that senior year wouldn’t be any better than junior year, especially with Harry gone.” She sighed a bit. “Whatever. There are other dances that we can share together.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. He kissed her again, and probably would have kept kissing her had Ned not appeared in the archway separating the kitchen from the front room. 

“I need… caffeine,” he announced. “Get out of my way.”

“Hello to you too, Ned,” Cheri said with a roll of her eyes, but all the same she pulled Peter out of the kitchen with her, to give him space. “We’ll start cooking at six, I guess. They’re supposed to be here around seven.”

“Great,” Peter said, sinking down onto the couch again. “Gives me time to take a nap.”

“God, that’s all I’ve done for the past two days,” Cheri sighed, but Peter pretended not to hear her, eyes closed. After a moment, he heard her breathe out a quiet laugh, and then she pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead. “All right, Queens,” she said, softly. “Get some rest.”

* * *

She let him sleep until six. She then settled down on top of his thighs, and gazed at him until he started to stir on his own. He blinked his eyes open, and squinted up at her, frowning a little. 

“Good morning,” Cheri greeted. “Time to help me with dinner.”

“Ugh.” Peter threw his arm over his eyes. “It’s boiling water and heating up sauce. I don’t think your concussion stops you from doing that.” 

“But Pete...” Cheri bounced up and down a few times. Peter cursed, and lowered his arm again. She cheesed at him, hard. “You can help with the salad, since that was your idea.” She slid off of him again, and walked away. “Come on!” 

Peter sighed, wearily, but all the same sat up. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment, debating with himself. He’d planned on going out into the city that night, to make up for his time away, but with the way he was feeling, he wasn’t sure that was the best idea. He’d end up with more cuts and bruises than the amount of dudes he managed to get in jail at the end of the night. 

“Peter!” 

“Yeesh,” he muttered, and pushed himself to his feet, heading for the kitchen. He leaned against the arch and watched as Cheri carried a large pot of water to the stove, setting it down on top of a burner. She turned towards him, and smiled.

“You’re kinda grumpy. I guess this is just jet lag, though, hm?” 

“Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes again, and then cracked his neck, sighing outwards. “Sorry, I’m here. Should I wait to start on the salad until it gets closer to seven?” 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Cheri agreed. “Give it until six thirty, I guess.” She nodded at the jar of tomato sauce. “Could you open that?” 

Peter did so with a single twist of his wrist, and set it back down on the counter. He pressed a kiss to her temple, putting an arm around her waist. “Thanks for letting me nap.”

“No problem,” Cheri replied easily. “Ned fell asleep, too. I’m wondering whether or not we should kick him out of the apartment during dinner, or if -”

“He sort of knows, too,” Peter interrupted, and Cheri lifted her eyebrows. Peter nodded, and moved away from her again, sighing. “I mean, he was there, so.”

“Right.” Cheri glanced down at the pot of water. “Well, then I guess he’s invited, too.” She reached for his arm, and looked at his watch. “Harry should be home soon.”

“Harry _ is _ home.” The front door swung closed, and Harry stuck his head into the kitchen, grinning. “Hello, husband, how wonderful that you’re back from your trip. Come give me a kiss.”

“Absolutely not. He’s mine,” Cheri said, possessively, wrapping both of her arms around Peter. 

“Don’t be selfish,” Harry said, frowning. “There’s plenty of him to go around.” He shrugged his way out of his heavy coat, and winked at Peter. “Maybe later, darling.” 

“Stop,” Peter said, smiling. “How was your day?”

“Long,” Harry languished. “And cold. It is snowing, did you know that? Still! Has been for, like, five hours, now. I want to die.” He paused, tilting his head, and then smiled a bit. “Mm, lucky for me, I _ am _ dying. How ironic.”

“You’re on something,” Cheri told him. “What drugs are you taking?” 

“Adderall,” Harry replied earnestly. He scooted into the kitchen, despite the minimal space, and placed his arms around Peter as well, making sure to grip Cheri’s wrists as he did so. “Why haven’t we ever considered a polyamorous relationship?” 

“Because… I’m not… interested in you?” Peter said, and Harry snorted. 

“Everyone’s interested in _me_ Peter! It's impossible not to be.” 

Peter hummed. "I mean -"

“I already told you that you don’t get any part of him,” Cheri cut in, hotly. 

“Don’t be _ selfish, _ we can _ share,” _ Harry insisted. 

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Ah, not really, we just have sex sometimes.”

Peter rolled his eyes, and moved away from them, to disdainful cries from both of them. He retrieved the tomatoes from the fridge in order to get started cutting. “Should I dice them, or wedges?” he asked, looking at Cheri.

“Well -”

“Wait, are we cooking for a special occasion?” Harry asked, perking up immediately. “Who’re we hosting?” 

“Mr. Stark, and my mom,” Cheri told him. “Apparently, my mom has something to tell me, and both Peter and Ned already know what it is, so they’re invited.” She looked Harry up and down. “I guess you could be invited, too, if you promise to behave.”

Harry placed a hand to his chest. “In esteemed company, I am always on my best behavior.” He trotted out of the kitchen, most likely to get changed, and Peter chuckled, shaking his head a little. 

“I wonder if Mr. Stark knows what he’s getting himself into,” he said. 

“Doubtful,” Cheri sighed, and she nodded to the tomatoes. “Wedges. Not everyone likes tomatoes, and they’re easier to take out if they’re bigger.” 

“Smart,” Peter said, and started to cut. 

About a half-hour later, he’d finished preparing the salad and stuck it into the fridge to chill until they were ready to serve it. The water had finally started to boil, and Cheri had dumped the pasta into it with a bit of olive oil, stirring the sauce methodically so that it would heat all the way through.

Ned emerged from his room, half-asleep, and Harry started a pot of coffee to help wake him up. Harry and Peter had then pulled out the fold-up table that they only put to use on very special occasions, and had lined the sides of it with desk chairs, and the two actual dining chairs that Harry and Ned had purchased when they’d first moved into the apartment. After covering the table with a tablecloth, Peter thought the set-up looked at least the tiniest bit like they knew how to host an adult dinner. 

Just in time, too. There was a knock on the apartment door, and Ned walked over and pulled it open. He smiled at Tony and Isabel, who both stood on the other side. 

“Hey,” he said. “C’mon in. We didn’t just spend the last half-hour cleaning the place up or anything.”

Tony gestured for Isabel to enter first, and she did so. It was the first time she was actually seeing the apartment, and Cheri quickly stepped out of the kitchen as she realized this, smiling at her mother. _ “Hola, Máma,” _ she greeted. “How’re you doing?” 

_ “Bueno,” _ Isabel replied, looking around the front room. Cheri could understand the scrutiny. She gestured towards the kitchen. 

“Dinner’s almost ready. Uh… do you want to see the rest of the apartment?” 

“That’d be nice,” Isabel said, and she finally smiled, too. “I haven’t been over here since you moved in.”

“Which was completely intentional,” Cheri assured, and she waved her hand. “There isn’t much to see, but I’ll give you a tour anyway. Pete, keep an eye on the pasta.”

Peter offered her a thumbs up in response, and watched as Cheri led her mother down the hallway. Tony joined him in the kitchen, and Peter glanced up at him. Tony responded to his silent question with a small nod, and Peter let out a breath, looking down at the boiling water. He should have expected as much, but there had been a large part of him hoping that it wasn’t true. 

“The place looks lived in,” Tony said, and Peter realized that Tony hadn’t been back to the apartment for several years. In fact, he’d only been there once before, when Peter had first decided that he wanted to move in with Ned and Harry, and Tony had wanted to see what he’d be helping pay for. 

“Well, four people live here, so I’d hope so,” Peter said, and he gave the sauce a final stir, before lowering the heat on both it and the pasta. He then carried the pasta pot over to the sink, and dumped it over the strainer that was waiting there. “Sorry that it’s only spaghetti.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure we’ll be doing much eating,” Tony admitted. “And besides that, I like spaghetti.” 

Peter smiled a little, and returned the spaghetti to the pot, carrying it back over to the stove. He heard Isabel and Cheri return from the hallway, Cheri commenting on their discount dining room set-up, and Isabel responding that it worked for the small amount of space they had. Peter started to put spaghetti onto different plates. 

“Ned!” he called. “Or Harry, I guess. Someone that lives here!” 

Harry appeared first, avoiding Tony as best as he could, and Peter nodded towards the fridge. “Get the salad out of there, please and thank you.”

“And there’s salad too?” Tony shook his head, scooting away from the fridge to give Harry room. “So much effort.”

“Well, Isabel’s never been here, and… you haven’t been here in a while,” Peter said. He shrugged, and turned to face him, two plates of spaghetti in hand. “Wanna be a waiter?” 

Tony smirked, and took the plates from him, walking out of the kitchen and around to the blank space in the front room where they’d set up the table. He set one of the plates down in front of Isabel, and the other in front of Cheri, who stood. 

“Wait, I can do that,” she said, and pulled out the desk chair she’d been sitting in for him. “You sit. I’ll help Peter.” 

She headed towards the kitchen, and Tony sat down with a sigh, looking at Isabel. “What’d you think?” he asked her, gesturing, and Isabel smiled a little. 

“I’m glad that they seem to be doing okay,” she said. “It is a nice apartment.” 

Harry appeared with the salad, then, as well as a bottle of ranch and Italian dressing. He set all three things down on the table before glancing between the two of them. “Do, uh… would you like something to drink?” 

“Just some water, I think, thank you, Harry,” Isabel said. Harry nodded, and looked at Tony, wincing already. 

“Water works for me, too,” Tony told him. Harry’s shoulders relaxed, a little, and he nodded again, disappearing once more for the kitchen. Isabel raised an eyebrow at Tony, who merely shook his head in response. He didn’t really want to get into a discussion of his habit of grudge-holding right before dinner. 

It didn’t take long after that for them all to settle down around the table with food, and they spent several minutes just chatting about general things. Tony could tell that Isabel was a little uncomfortable, with Ned and Harry present, too, but he hoped that wouldn’t deter her from telling Cheri anyway. 

About halfway into the meal, Cheri seemed to decide that it was up to her to start the conversation, because she looked at first Tony, and then her mother. 

“So… as nice as this is,” she started, “uh, Mr. Stark said that we needed to talk about something.”

Isabel glanced at Tony, who nodded encouragingly. Isabel then let out a breath, and turned her gaze towards her daughter. “Yes,” she agreed. “It’s… well. This isn’t easy to say, Cheri, but I… I’d like you to remember that I only kept this from you for your sake.” 

Cheri leaned back in her chair. “Are you about to tell me that you’re dying of cancer or something?” she asked. “Because you need to remember that I still have the remnants of a concussion, and could probably fall into a coma at any second.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Peter murmured from beside her. 

“I’m not dying,” Isabel sighed. “If I were, you’d be the first to know.” She hesitated a moment. “This is about your father.”

Cheri inhaled, sharply. “Not any better,” she said, and Isabel glanced down. 

“I know. But it’s become clear that I can’t keep it from you anymore, and so… I’m just going to tell you.” She looked up, and met Cheri’s gaze. “Your father is Tiberius Stone. We met during my last semester at MIT, and were involved in a relationship until June. I did not see him again, after graduation, and when I found out I was pregnant, I decided that there was no reason to try to get in contact with him.”

Cheri was already frowning. She glanced at Peter, and then at Tony. “What does this have to do with what happened in Wakanda?” she asked. “Peter said -”

“He was the one responsible for the vibranium being stolen,” Tony explained. “He… during his hearing with the Wakandan Council, he requested that he be able to meet you, before he was put in prison or whatever.” 

Cheri blinked a few times. Peter reached over and placed his hand on hers. “Oh,” she managed after a moment. “Uh. What did you tell him?” 

Tony exchanged a look with Isabel, who, unsurprisingly, seemed to be at a bit of a loss. Tony couldn’t blame her. He turned his attention back to Cheri. “I… sort of told him no? After I punched him.”

“You _ punched him?” _ Peter asked, gaping. “No wonder you made us get out of there as fast as we did.”

“Listen, it was a shock, all right?” Tony defended. “I didn’t really know how to react, and the only thought I had in that particular moment revolved strictly around how much I hate him.” 

Cheri let out a breath, bringing both of their attention back to her. “Okay,” she said, carefully. “Uh. I don’t really… I don’t really want to meet him…”

“Well, great, then,” Tony said, relieved. “That saves us a lot of trouble.”

“But… maybe I should?” 

Tony’s relief evaporated. “What? Why?” he demanded. 

Cheri frowned at him. “He’s my dad,” she said. “And he wants to meet me. It’s the only thing he asked for, after admitting that he was guilty. That has to say something, right?” 

“Cheri, he’s the most manipulative man in the world,” Tony told her. “Believe me, the only reason he wants to meet you is to try and convince you that he’s not a bad guy, so that he can get something from you later on. You shouldn’t subject yourself to that sort of ordeal, because it will be a major let down at the end.”

Cheri merely continued to frown. “But he’s my dad,” she said again. 

“As someone who also has a shitty man for a dad, uh… I can tell you that Mr. Stark probably has a point,” Harry put in, glancing worriedly at Peter. He then looked at Cheri again, and said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Cheri.”

Cheri looked down for a moment. Peter wished he could tell what she was thinking, but she had put on a neutral expression, one that he could very rarely see through. No doubt, though, she was considering the pros and cons, and remembering how long she’d wanted to know who her father was. 

Finally, she glanced up again, and at her mother. “What do you think?” she asked, quietly. 

Isabel glanced down at her half-eaten plate of spaghetti. “There’s a reason I didn’t tell him about you, and vice versa,” she said. “That’s really all I can give you.”

“You’re going to try and sell me on the idea that he wasn’t a good guy while you were with him?” Cheri questioned. She pulled her necklace out from beneath the collar of the sweater she was wearing. “He gave you _ this. _ Don’t you think that means he cared about you? Why did you think he couldn’t care about me?” 

“He was almost ten years older than me,” Isabel said, patiently. “Our relationship was never going to work, and it was never supposed to be something serious, or long lasting. If I would have told him that I was pregnant, he would have wanted nothing to do with either of us, for the sake of keeping his wealth to himself.” She glanced over at Tony. “You could probably back me up on this.”

Tony nodded. “I can,” he said. “Cheri, Ty’s always been a selfish guy. He’ll use people to get what he wants, for a certain period of time, and then he drops them, pretends he never knew them. I grew up with him, I _ know.” _ He fiddled with his cup, wishing that he hadn’t needed to be this blunt, but clearly, it was necessary. “I wish I could tell you that he wants to meet you for the sake of getting to know you, but… there’s always an ulterior motive with him.” 

Cheri looked around at everyone sitting at the table. Ned tilted his head to the side, twirling a few stray noodles that were on his plate around his fork. “I didn’t meet the guy,” he said, “but… I don’t think I’d want to try and talk to the person who stole two tons of vibranium from its source country.” He hesitated, then added, “And he murdered someone.”

_ “Cristo,” _ Isabel sighed, putting her face in her hand. Tony reached over and gave her shoulder a comforting pat. 

Cheri sniffled, and reached up, brushing at her nose with the back of her hand. She nodded. “All right,” she said. “I - I don’t want to meet him, and I won’t. He doesn’t sound like someone I want in my life, in any capacity.”

Tony’s shoulders fell in relief, and he reached across the table, placing his hand over her wrist, and squeezing gently. “I know it’s tough,” he said, softly, “but… I really think this is the best choice, in the long run.” 

Cheri nodded again, and then stood. “I - sorry,” she said, “but this has… been a lot? And I kind of think I need to go lay down. Excuse me.” 

She turned and walked off down the hall. After a moment of debate, Peter went after her. Instead of entering their room, he stood in the doorway, and watched as she laid down on their bed, on her side, back to him. 

“You want to talk about it?” he asked, softly, and Cheri sighed. 

“Later, maybe.” 

“All right,” Peter said. “I’ll leave you alone until then.” He stepped back, and closed the door halfway, before returning to the front room. “Sorry. She just needs some time,” he said to everyone at the table. 

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t,” Isabel responded. She finished the water in her cup, and rose. “I should probably head home, anyway. I need to plan my lectures for tomorrow.” She glanced at Tony. “Do you need me to drive you anywhere?” 

“No,” he said, standing up as well. “Thank you, though. I’ll walk you out.” 

They headed for the front door, Peter trailing after them. Isabel looked at him as he pulled the door open, and said, “Thank you, Peter. I appreciate that you’re here for her.” 

He lifted his shoulders. “I love her. That’s all there is to it, really.”

She smiled a little, and nodded in agreement. “Good night.”

“Good night, guys,” Peter said, watching as she and Tony exited the apartment. Tony lifted his hand to his ear in a ‘call me’ gesture, and Peter nodded his agreement, before closing the door. He then leaned back against it, breathing outwards and studying the ceiling. 

“Peter? Harry and I can do the dishes,” Ned said, and Peter glanced at him. 

“Thanks,” he said. “I, uh…” He sighed a little. “No, she needs me, even if it’s not to talk.” He stepped away from the front door, smiling at his friends. “Try not to need us, okay?”

Harry held up an ‘okay’ sign with his thumb and pointer finger, carrying a couple of plates to the kitchen in his other hand. Peter headed back down the hall, and slid once more into his and Cheri’s bedroom. He gently closed the door, and then faced the bed. 

“Cher?” She acknowledge his presence by shifting a bit. “Can I lay with you?” 

After a moment, he saw her nod, and he moved across the room to the bed, settling down on it behind her. She reached back and pulled his arm over her without asking, and Peter smiled a little, pressing his nose briefly into the hair on the top of her head. He slipped his other arm beneath her, and draped his leg across hers, cradling her against him. 

“Thanks,” she said, softly. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” he assured. “Just… just know that I’m here, okay?” 

“I do,” she told him. “And I appreciate it. I just kind of need to process this before I can talk about it more, I think.” A moment of silence passed, and then she said, “I just can’t believe I finally know who my dad is, only to learn that he’s a huge asshole at the same time.”

Peter thought he knew what she meant. “You had him built up in your head,” he said. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, and then she sniffled. “I guess I was wrong, though, huh?” She tapped her finger against his arm a few times. “I almost wish I didn’t know, but I think that’s just… my current feeling. It’ll change, the longer I have to think about it.” 

“Probably,” Peter agreed. 

There was another moment of silence, and then Cheri sighed outwards. “Take my mind off it,” she said. “Tell me about Wakanda. How was it?”

Peter smiled. “It was really awesome,” he said. “I think Ned had a better time than I did, but from the time I did get to spend in the labs, it… it’s even more amazing than I’d thought it was. The princess is an actual genius; I think she and Ned got along really well.”

“Did you learn any secrets?” Cheri asked, jokingly, and Peter chuckled. 

“No, not really,” he said. “Like I said, Ned spent more time in the labs than I did. I’m excited to see what he can come up with, after learning all that new information. Maybe we’ll finally get our limitless communication devices that he’s been working on for so long.”

“Maybe,” Cheri said. “That’d be cool.” She hesitated, her hand circling his forearm. “Are you going out tonight?” 

Peter breathed outwards. “I was going to,” he admitted, “but if you’d rather I stay, I will. You’re my first priority right now.” 

“Thanks,” she said, and he could tell she was smiling a little. “But you can go. I know you’re probably worrying about it, even though you were only gone for two days.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded. “You’re not just saying that, in order to not feel selfish?”

“No,” she said, sighing. She sounded a little exasperated, which was how Peter knew that she was telling the truth. 

“All right,” he said. “If you’re absolutely, one hundred percent positive.”

“Queens, I’m about to elbow you in the side,” she informed him. 

He grinned, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re my favorite, babe.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. A pause. “You’re my favorite, too.”

**Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 11:34 PM**

Peter swung down onto the street, frowning to himself as he glanced around. Cops were scattered around, chatting with one another, looking as though they had not a care in the world. Peter let out a breath. 

“Karen, I thought there was a drug bust happening over here,” he said to his AI. 

“There was,” she said, sounding a bit confused herself. “It… I guess it must have ended.”

“But -” Peter cut himself off, and let out a groan, handing his head. “Dammit.” 

“Oh, hey Spider-Man!” one of the cops called to him. He grinned, and gestured. “You missed all the fun, sorry. Not that there was much to deal with; dealers are getting more and more incompetent.”

“Right,” Peter replied with a sigh. “Well, good job. Uh… yeah.”

He hurriedly fired a web at a building and swung away again, not wanting any of the cops to catch on to his clear lack of understanding. He was always the first to arrive on the scene of a planned drug bust, and usually the one to take down the dealers before the cops could even show up. How was it that this was the second time it had happened in the span of a month, that he was late to crime-stopping? 

“Karen, does the alert system need an upgrade?” he asked, settling down on the edge of a building. 

“Data says that everything is up-to-code,” Karen answered. “You could always _ try, _ but -”

“Yeah.” Peter tugged off his mask, and placed his head in his hands, exhaling. “What the hell’s going on?” 

“Peter, I should have told you that they did manage to catch Richard Fisk,” Karen said from his watch. Peter looked over at it in surprise. “Two nights ago. Without him, the Fisk crime network fell, and with it, so did crime rates. The NYPD hasn't had enough to do since then.”

“But that was _ one _ crime network,” Peter said, disbelieving. “They couldn’t have had that much control over the entire city. There’s got to be other groups out there, who would’ve stepped up as soon as Fisk’s was no longer in charge.” He lifted his head again, and looked out over the rooftops below him, frowning to himself. “I don’t get it.”

“You sound disappointed,” Karen said. 

“I -” Peter closed his eyes. “I’m not _ disappointed, _ just… confused,” he explained. “It… there’s always been something for me to do, but now that not even the cops have enough work, it’s like I’m… useless.” 

“Spider-Man could never be useless,” Karen told him. 

“I’m sitting on the edge of the building _complaining_ about how there’s no crime to fight,” Peter said. “I feel pretty useless.”

“Well…” Karen was silent for a moment. “Then maybe this is Peter’s chance to be useful?” 

Peter frowned to himself. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean that you have a life outside of Spider-Man that you sometimes aren’t able to focus on,” Karen explained. “Maybe, with Spider-Man having less to do, this is your chance to turn your attention to that life.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “So… personal stuff,” he said. “Like work.”

“Sure, work,” Karen said. She sounded very amused. “But also other things.” 

“Cheri,” Peter concluded, and he smiled a bit. “Right. Okay.” He stood up. “There’s nothing for Spider-Man to do, right?” 

“Nothing on the radar,” Karen confirmed. 

“Then I guess Peter’s going home,” he said, and slipped on his mask again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a reminder that I would die for pansexual icon Harry Osborn have a nice day.


	83. The Peace Ruined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri gets some bad news. Peter tries to help.

**January 31st, 2024 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 5:02 PM**

“All healed?” Ned asked, looking over as Cheri and Peter walked into the apartment through the front door, and Cheri nodded, touching the back of her head. 

“No more stitches. I can shower like a normal person again, thank God.”

Ned grinned. “Did the doctor give you a lollipop for being a good patient?” he queried, cheekily, and Cheri flipped him off, walking away towards her and Peter’s bedroom. Peter smiled, watching her go, and then he looked at Ned. 

“What’re you doing home?” he asked his friend. 

“Got off early,” Ned said. “The snow was pretty bad, so they sent a lot of us to work from home, to avoid… I don’t know, injury on the job, maybe?” He shrugged, and turned back to his laptop. “It’s whatever. I can do my job just as well from the couch.”

Peter chuckled, and set his apartment key on the rack hanging near the door, before he shrugged out of his coat. It was snowing pretty hard outside, still. He hoped that it wouldn’t last; he hated swinging around the city when the weather was acting like this. 

He had talked to Tony. King T’Challa had let him know what the Council had decided, in reference to Tiberius Stone, which was a fine to recompense for the vibranium that had been stolen and distributed. He was also supposed to supply a list of all the people that had bought the vibranium he’d sold. On top of that, he’d been sentenced to up to twenty years in a federal penitentiary, with a bail of 3 million dollars. 

Peter thought, all told, that he was getting off fairly easy. As far as Tony knew, he hadn’t been able to post his bail, yet, but Tony had no doubt that he would, as soon as he got the chance. Once he was sure that Stone was out, Tony was going to see what he could do to make sure that he wouldn’t get near Cheri unless she decided otherwise. 

Peter trusted Tony to do that, and so he’d told Cheri not to worry about it, and to let his mentor deal with it. Cheri hadn’t seemed upset to hear that Stone would not be spending time in prison, but she had not expressed any excitement on the topic, either. In fact, she seemed mostly neutral, still. Peter knew that was just her repressing emotions, and knew that was a bad thing, but he did not know how to approach her about it, without inciting a reaction that he did not necessarily want. 

Still, if she continued to act this way, he knew that he would need to deal with it. He could always ask Bruce for help with that. 

Bruce and Natasha had finally found a place to move into, in a suburb outside the city. It was a nice place, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and close to a general practice doctor’s office that Bruce was excited to start working at. They were set to move out of the Compound before the end of February. Peter had already offered his help, if they needed it, and Bruce had told him that they’d let him know. 

All told, things had relatively settled. Georgia Carr, the police chief, had finally gotten in touch with Spider-Man about Richard Fisk, and how he’d successfully been detained. She thanked him, for pushing the young crime boss out of hiding, and told him that he’d probably be looking for work, with the fall in crime rates. Peter had laughed in response to this, but something inside his chest had twisted uncomfortably at the thought of Spider-Man not having anything to do.

Still, though, Karen had been right. With less to worry about at night as Spider-Man, he’d had more than enough energy during the day to focus on his personal life. He’d gotten in touch with the head of the engineering department at ESU, to ask about graduate programs; he was fully determined to get his master’s within the next couple of years, and then move onto his doctorate afterwards. Although there were several months before he’d begin with that, and he might have been making an assumption that he’d have too much time on his hands even then, he looked forward to it. 

Cheri, too, seemed to enjoy his adjusted schedule. Although sex was off the table as a nighttime activity, it was enough to simply be able to fall asleep together. She’d gotten into the habit of dozing off only when she was securely in his arms. Peter could only hope that when the time came in which that wasn’t an option, she’d still be able to get to sleep. Cheri didn’t seem worried about that, however, and, as such, Peter did not bring it up, and willingly acted as big spoon every night. 

He was pleased with the way life was going. He was trying his best not to get too comfortable, however, because he knew that it could only be a matter of time before something disrupted the peace. 

And from the shriek that came from his and Cheri’s bedroom, he thought that maybe the peace had just been disturbed. 

Peter sped down the hall, and stopped in the doorway of their bedroom, eyes wide. “What, what?” he demanded, frightened. 

Cheri was sitting at the desk, looking at her laptop. Her mouth was open, and her fist was clenched on the desktop. Peter blinked, waiting for a response. When she did not turn around to face him, he stepped forward. 

“What is it?” he asked her, and she gestured sharply to the laptop screen. He leaned beside her, and read the email that she had open. He had to reread it twice, to really get a grip of what it said, and when he thought he had, he blinked again. “What - can they do that?” 

“They can do whatever they want,” Cheri muttered, angrily closing the laptop. “They’re the ones in charge.”

“But… you’ve only been out of the school for, like, a week,” he said. “And it’s the beginning of the semester!”

“I know.”

“They can’t keep you from graduating just because you’ve missed a week of student teaching,” he stated. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“You think?” Cheri exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “But what the fuck am I supposed to do, Peter? Storm the campus and tell them “Screw you, of course I’m graduating!”?”

“Well, why not?” Peter asked. “Just bring them the paper you got from the doctor at the emergency room, that says you needed to take it easy. They can’t - it was a medical emergency.” 

“And if it’s a matter of me missing out on the full twelve or whatever weeks that I need, I can student teach into the later weeks of the Manhattan public school system instead,” Cheri added. 

“Exactly.” Peter shook his head. “This is stupid. We’ll go to ESU tomorrow and talk to whoever we have to.” He gestured to her laptop. “Who sent you that email?”

“My academic adviser,” she said. “The one who keeps track of, like, credits and makes sure you’re taking the right classes.” She hung her head between her hands. “Fuck. He’s not going to take me seriously. He never has. I’m pretty sure he’s an internalized racist.”

Peter fumed. “Are you serious?” She nodded tiredly, and he cursed. “Fuck that guy, then. Hang on.” He walked away a few steps, pulling out his phone. He dialed Tony, and then brought the phone to his ear, seething. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony said as a greeting after picking up on the third ring. “How’d the doctor go?” 

“Fine, but _ apparently, _ Cheri’s academic adviser has decided that she’s suddenly not allowed to graduate,” Peter replied, darkly. 

There was a moment of silence on the other end. “Why?” Tony finally asked. 

“Because she’s missed a week, and let both her student teaching teacher _ and _her adviser know that she’d probably need to take a second week, too, once her stitches were out.” Peter rolled his eyes. “According to the email, she won’t have the right amount of weeks student teaching by the time graduation rolls around, and so technically her degree would be unfinished.” 

“That seems really stupid,” Tony decided. “Especially since she’s been out because of a medical thing. Did she send them the note from the doctor that we got her at the emergency room?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said, “but, _ apparently, _ the adviser doesn’t give a shit.” He looked at Cheri. “Did he send that email to your student teaching teacher, too?”

Cheri flipped her laptop open, and then shook her head, turning back to him. “No.”

“Then _ fuck _ that guy!” Peter exclaimed. “God! Mr. Stark -”

“We’ll deal with it,” Tony assured. “This sounds less like Cheri did something wrong and more like this adviser is a shitty dude.” He was silent for a moment. “All right. If Cheri can get a meeting with him, tell her I’ll go with her, and we’ll figure it out.”

Peter let out a breath, closing his eyes for a second. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I kind of called you out of a fit of rage, but… realistically, we could probably figure this out on our own.”

“No, I know,” Tony said, “but it’d be more helpful with me on your side, right?” 

“Yeah,” Peter admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just hate the idea of her not graduating because of something this ridiculous.”

“She’s going to graduate,” Tony assured. “Tell her to get a meeting with him, and then let me know when that is. We’ll fix it.” 

“Okay,” Peter said, and he nodded to himself. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“No problem,” Tony responded easily. “I hate privileged assholes; it’s always fun to take them down a notch with my own privilege.” 

Peter managed a smile at that. “Are you still at the Tower?” 

“Of course,” Tony said. “And I might be sleeping here, tonight, considering the snow outside. It’s bad.” He sighed a little. “I should finish up this paperwork. Tell Cheri to call or text me.”

“Right, I will. Bye.” Peter lowered his phone, ending the call, and turned to Cheri. “Mr. Stark said that he’ll help you figure it out.”

Cheri was frowning at him. “I didn’t need you to bring Tony into it,” she said. Peter blinked, surprised to hear how annoyed she sounded. “I could’ve figured it out on my own.”

“I know,” Peter said, carefully, “but I figured you might like to have him on your side.” He hesitated. “It’ll help, right?” 

“Realistically, of course,” Cheri replied, “but I don’t want to be the college student who has to rely on someone with more, like, legitimacy to fight their battles for them. Part of the reason I even got this email is because my adviser doesn’t take me seriously. What’s he going to think when I walk into a meeting with him, hiding behind Tony like a child?”

“I just -”

“Whatever, Peter,” Cheri sighed, turning away from him again. “You called him, and now he’s involved. It’s whatever.”

Peter studied the back of her head for a moment. “I just wanted to help,” he said, quietly. 

“I know,” Cheri said without looking back at him. “Sometimes, though, I wish you’d ask if I want help, first.” 

Peter knew that she was only acting this way because she was upset about the whole situation, so he decided not to press it further. Instead, he said, “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Why don’t you and Ned figure it out? I’m not in a cooking mood.”

“Fine,” Peter said after a moment, and he stalked out of their room, closing the door behind him. He returned to the front room, and hopped over the couch, settling down next to Ned, who glanced over at him in concern. 

“Are you fighting?”

“Kind of,” Peter said without looking at him, and he reached for the remote to turn the TV on. “We’re figuring out dinner by ourselves, I guess.”

“What happened?” Ned asked. 

“Her adviser is being an asshole,” Peter said, waving a hand in the air as he flipped through channels, not really seeing what was on any of them as he did so. “She’s pissed about that, and she’s taking it out on me. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh.” Ned turned his gaze back to his laptop. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

The thing was, Peter _ was _ sure. Once upon a time, he would have double-guessed himself, after hearing Ned say something like that, but now? Now, he knew Cheri well enough to know that he was completely right. He also knew that, once she had everything figured out, she’d apologize for taking her anger out on him. It was how she worked. 

So. He wasn’t upset. Because he knew all this for a fact. He also knew that she’d be appreciative of his decision to include Tony when it was all squared away. She might even thank him for it, if in a particularly good mood. If he was lucky, she’d thank him in the _ best _way. 

He wouldn’t count on that, though. No doubt it’d all be figured out within a week, and it wouldn’t be safe for her to thank him in the _ best _ way even then. 

Maybe after that, though. When it _ was _ safe. 

He let out a breath, leaning back further in the couch cushions. He’d give her space. She knew that she had Tony on her side, if she wanted him to be there. Once the problem had been resolved, things would go back to normal, again. 

He just had to wait it out.


	84. All Your Cards On The Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony teaches Cheri how to play poker.

**February 2nd, 2024 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 2:05 PM**

Cheri (begrudgingly) let Tony know that the meeting her adviser had agreed to would start at 2:15 on February 2nd, at his office on the ESU campus. She did not let him know that she’d be going over there as early as 2:00, nor did she let him know that she had every intention of going into the meeting alone to fight her own battle like the big kid she was. 

That did not stop Tony from being at ESU fifteen minutes before she even got there, dressed very nicely, and wearing his best pair of glasses that were connected to FRIDAY. She rattled off a steady stream of info on Cheri’s adviser for him, after he’d asked her to look into the guy. Apparently, Derek (Derek. _ Really?) _ Lewis had a doctorate in educational psychology, and had been on the academic advising team at ESU for closing in on twenty years. Tony had to give him credit for his persistence. Most recently, according to the information in a secure server that FRIDAY had pulled for him (after very clearly stating that it was a _ secure server, _Boss), he had tried for the dean position of the university’s college of education, and had failed miserably. 

Apparently, no one on ESU’s decision-making board liked Derek Lewis very much. 

Tony had a feeling that, after this meeting he was about to have with him, he wasn’t going to like him very much, either. He _ already _ didn’t like him very much, and that was based on biased information that he’d gotten from Peter and FRIDAY’s research. 

FRIDAY finished with her spew of info on Derek Lewis just as Tony spotted Cheri’s Honda (still looking brand new, he was pleased to note) pull into a space alongside one of the sidewalks lining the outside of the campus. He stood up from the bench he’d sat on to wait for her, buttoning up his coat again, and walked over to the car. 

Cheri did not look happy to see him, but she said nothing that matched her expression out loud. Instead, after she’d climbed from the car, she said, “You’re here early.”

“I took a long lunch,” Tony answered with a shrug. Cheri closed the car door and locked the vehicle. She had a folder in her hands. He nodded to it. “What’s in there?”

“A printed and hand-signed note from the same doctor that stitched me up at West Medical,” she said, “plus an email from the teacher who’s mentoring me for student teaching, saying that I’m free to student teach up until the last week of the public school system’s spring semester, which gives me three extra weeks of leeway between what I’ve missed, and the required amount of weeks I’m supposed to spend in the classroom.” She hesitated. “There might also be a strongly worded letter addressed to my adviser in here that I won’t be giving him, but writing it helped me feel a little bit better.”

Tony smiled. “Good,” he said. “That’s a solid bit of ammunition. I think we’ve got this.” 

Cheri let out a breath that appeared in front of her face as a crystalline cloud. “I hope so,” she said, and then she gestured with her head. “Advisers have their offices in the main building. C’mon.”

She led the way onto the campus proper, and then to the largest building that was on the campus itself. The architectural design was very reminiscent of most judicial buildings Tony had seen, which numbered quite a few, featuring columns and marble. It was all a little much, he thought, then snorted to himself when he remembered how tall his own company’s building was, and that it had his last name impaled to the top of it like a goddamn homing beacon. He had no room to judge on opulency. 

The inside of the building was a lot less exciting. It had clearly been updated to match the times; there was carpeting on the floor throughout, with a staircase leading up almost right off the front entrance. Cheri avoided this, and took the hallway on the left-hand side of the stairs instead. Tony wondered how many excursions she’d made to Derek Lewis’s office in her time at ESU, and imagined it was probably as few as possible. 

She paused outside a door that was very neatly labeled with Derek Lewis’s name. It was a little crusty with age and oxidation. _ Good, _ Tony thought, privately. He glanced at his watch. They had about five minutes to spare. 

“All right, c’mere,” he said, and he tugged her to a small cranny between the next office over and what looked to be a break room. “What’re you gonna say once you’re in there?” 

Cheri lifted her shoulders. “The same thing I told him when I first got hurt, that I needed to take at least two weeks off from student teaching due to a medical emergency. Once I was better, I’d get back into it immediately.” She flapped the folder a bit. “Maybe he’ll take a printed document from a medical professional more seriously than a JPEG of it attached to an email.” She opened the folder, tugged out the strongly worded letter, and then held out the folder so that he could see the note. It was signed, in black ink, and there was even a professional looking seal in the corner of it. The seal wouldn’t have come across in an email-attached JPEG. 

“Good,” Tony said, nodding. He took the lined sheet of notebook paper she’d written her letter on from her, and folded it up, sliding it into the pocket of his coat. “To avoid any possibility of it ending up in the wrong hands,” he explained. Cheri nodded her agreement, and flipped the folder closed again. “What about the email from the teacher?”

“It’s gonna be a reserve tactic, in case the doctor’s note doesn’t work,” Cheri said. “Unless you think I should play them both at the same time?” 

Tony considered, and decided that in this game of poker, against this particular opponent, she’d need to show her full house all at once, or be forced to fold. 

“I think you should tell it like it is, and then slide this whole folder across his desk to him,” Tony said. 

“I’m not trying to be dramatic, Mr. Stark,” Cheri sighed. “This is serious. It’s, like, the final obstacle between me and my career. I can’t fuck it up.”

“And you won’t,” Tony assured. “Cheri, I’m a businessman. I go into negotiations all the time. You have the upper hand here. He might think he holds all the power, but in reality, what he’s trying to do to you is unfair, and if, after we show him this stuff, he still won’t let you graduate, we’re going to take this to the university school board. And he’ll _ know _that, once he sees what you’ve gathered.” 

Cheri gazed up at him for a moment, before she exhaled a breath, and nodded her agreement. “Okay,” she said, and she flipped the folder closed again. “Let’s do this.”

They walked back to the office door. Cheri reached out to knock on it, and then opened it. 

Derek Lewis looked exactly as Tony had expected him to. FRIDAY had told him that Lewis had been a professor for about ten years, first, before moving on to the adviser role. He looked the part, and so did his office. Everything was neat and orderly; the books on the shelf behind him were alphabetized, for fuck’s sake. Lewis himself wore a dark gray turtleneck that matched the color of the road-stained snow on the side of the street outside. He had circular, silver-rimmed glasses that he wore perched on the very edge of his nose, and he peered over these glasses at the two of them as they entered the office space, without lifting his hands from the keyboard that he was typing on.

Yeah. Tony hated him pretty much immediately. 

“Ms. Schultz,” Lewis said, and he sent a cursory look down at the watch he wore on his left wrist. No doubt some Rolex knock-off his wife had bought him before divorcing his ass fifteen years ago. Good for her. “Two minutes early.”

“Hello, Doctor,” Cheri said, ignoring the remark on their timing. Tony thought that was a good first step in her showing that she wasn’t afraid of him. That was a key component in this process, not allowing her fear of possibly not graduating get to her. “How are you today?”

“As good as can be expected,” Lewis replied. He eyed Tony up and down. “I did not expect you to bring a guest.”

“Doctor Lewis, this is Mr. Tony Stark,” Cheri said, again ignoring the secondary comment. “You might recognize him.”

“Of course,” Lewis said, and he rose slightly from his big, leather desk chair, to reach across the desk and shake Tony’s hand. Lewis’s hand was clammy, Tony was unsurprised to note. “Hello, Mr. Stark.”

“Dr. Lewis,” he replied, watching as Lewis settled back down in his leather chair. Clearly, this guy did not much care who Tony was, which was fine. He didn’t need to flaunt his own status in order to make this work in Cheri’s favor. “I offered to come with Cheri today as a sort of eye witness to her medical emergency.”

Lewis lifted one gray eyebrow. Tony was almost certain there was more hair left on his eyebrows than what remained on the top of his head. “I see,” he said, looking at Cheri again. “I must admit I am curious to know how you two are acquainted.”

_ Fuck this guy, _ Tony thought, bitterly. _ Who the hell uses the word ‘acquainted’? _

“I worked for Mr. Stark as his personal assistant, last summer,” Cheri explained. “He was the one to transport me to the hospital when I was hurt.”

“I see,” Lewis said again. He folded his hands on the desk top. “Well, then, perhaps we can start this discussion. As I stated in my email, Ms. Schultz, due to your… unforeseen medical emergency, you will be two weeks behind where you should be in your student teaching semester. That puts you two weeks behind the required amount of weeks in order to graduate with a degree in Secondary Education for Music. As such, I do not know what more there is to talk about. In order to graduate, you would need to complete all of the required weeks, which, from where you stand, is not possible.”

“It is,” Cheri countered. “The Manhattan public school districts continue to run three weeks after school ends for ESU. I may not get to walk at graduation, but if I can make up for the two weeks I missed because of my recovery time, using those extra weeks that the public schools have, I can still receive my degree.” 

She passed him the folder. “I already emailed my student teaching mentor, Mr. Kieffer, about it, and he says it’s fine with him. There’s a copy of our email exchange in the folder. I also included a hard copy of the doctor’s note I received stating that I was unable to perform student teaching for two weeks while I healed properly.” She stepped back from the desk, closer to Tony’s side. “If the university agrees, I can still graduate this semester. I simply won’t be able to attend ESU’s graduation, which I personally don’t mind.” 

“Although, to be fair,” Tony said, speaking up, “I can’t imagine that something like this would keep the school from allowing her to walk with the rest of her peers on graduation day, especially once they see that it was an unavoidable circumstance that kept her from concluding her student teaching weeks at the same time as all the other student teachers this semester.” He tilted his head. “Because, I’m sure, the school _ does _receive notice of this? At least, the dean of the Walker School of Arts, which is where her degree is coming from, if the research I did is correct.”

“It is,” Lewis said, examining the two pieces of paper that were within the folder. 

Tony shrugged, then, and leaned back on his heels. “If needed, we could get in touch with him, see what he thinks about all this.”

A knock sounded on the door of the office, and all three of them looked to see who it was. Cheri let out a quiet noise of surprise as she recognized the man standing in the doorway, dressed nicely in a pair of slacks and an argyle sweater. He tilted his head in curiosity as he took in the room. 

“What’s this about?” he queried. “A secret meeting about my favorite Walker School student teacher?” 

“Dr. Ward,” Lewis said, leaning back in his chair. There was a barely disguised veil of distaste in his voice. “We were actually discussing the matter of Ms. Schultz’ graduation. She is two weeks behind on her student teaching requirement.” 

“Oh?” Ward walked into the office. “Why’s that?” 

“I had a medical emergency,” Cheri explained. Without asking, she picked up the folder and its contents from Lewis’s desk, and passed them to Ward instead. “I was required to take two weeks off from all activities in order to recover properly, and Dr. Lewis said that would keep me from graduating. I checked with my student teaching mentor, though, and he said that it would be fine if I made up those two extra weeks using the ones that the public schools have in their own schedule.” She placed her hands behind her back, and shrugged a little. “I told Dr. Lewis that, if it was okay, I’d be fine with not walking with the 2024 class, and just getting my degree in the mail or something.”

Ward read through the papers that were in the folder, and then he glanced at Lewis. “Why didn’t you bring this to me, when she first let you know about her injury?” he asked, brow furrowed. 

Lewis shifted in his chair. The leather made an unsightly sound. Tony had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from snorting. “I did not think it necessary,” he explained. “I am the one who oversees her graduation requirements -”

“But I’m part of the party that decides whether or not she graduates at all,” Ward interrupted. “Not to mention the head of the school her degree comes out of. Arguably, I know more about her requirements than you do.” He looked at Cheri and Tony both, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying to tell that to the board for years, but they think giving me all that work would be too much.”

He turned back to Lewis, closing the folder. “Anyway, I think this plan works fine, and, as long as we know for certain that Cheri will continue student teaching for two weeks after graduation, I see no reason why she shouldn’t be allowed to attend graduation itself.” He grinned at Cheri, winking. “We’ll just hang onto your diploma until we receive verification from Mr. Kieffer that you concluded all twelve required weeks.” 

“That is completely unprecedented -” Lewis began, but Ward shot him a look that caused him to close his mouth. Tony thought he resembled a fish of some kind. 

“When have we ever had a student come through with something like this?” he asked Lewis. “There’s no protocol in place. So, thanks to Cheri, we have a protocol, now.” He slid the folder under his arm. “Make note of it, maybe, so that you won’t have to put another student through what you’ve put her through.” He turned back to Cheri. “Come with me. I think we can handle this from here.”

Cheri nodded in agreement, and she glanced back at Lewis, who was steaming. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Lewis,” she said, politely, before following Ward out of the office. Tony did the same, offering Lewis a two-fingered salute that he completely meant as sarcasm, which he hoped Lewis could interpret. 

Once they were out of the hallway that Lewis’s office was in, Cheri’s shoulders fell, and she turned to Ward. “Thanks, Doc,” she said, smiling at him. “I guess I should’ve come straight to you with this.”

“Yeah, probably,” Ward said, shrugging, “but how were you supposed to know that I could override Lewbooger’s decisions?” He looked at Tony. “At least you brought backup.”

“Right,” Cheri said, and she gestured to Tony. “Doc, this is Tony Stark. Mr. Stark, this is Doctor Alex Ward. You might’ve guessed already that he’s the dean of the Walker School of Arts.”

“Mr. Tony Stark,” Ward said, shaking his hand. “Pretty esteemed company you have, Cheri.”

“Well, you knew I worked for Stark Industries last summer,” Cheri replied with a shrug. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that got you a personal relationship with the CEO,” Ward said, lifting his eyebrow. 

“It’s sort of a long story,” Tony explained, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. 

“Well,” Ward said, tilting his head back and forth, “I was about to head out to lunch. Maybe, once we’re finished with this, we could all get something together, and the two of you can tell me the long story?” 

Tony exchanged a glance with Cheri, who shrugged, indicating that it didn’t matter to her. Tony wanted to express that it was really up to her, though, since this was her professor and it might be weird. 

Then again, stripped down to the bare essentials, Tony was nothing more than her old boss, so. 

“We’ll have to see,” Tony said, glancing at his watch. “If we have enough time. I’d even pay.”

Ward chuckled. “You don’t need to.”

“No, but I will,” Tony said. “After all, you sort of swooped in and saved the day.”

“Weird, considering you’re usually the superhero,” Ward commented. 

“Jeez, the two of you,” Cheri sighed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe we _ shouldn’t _ get lunch. I don’t think I can sit in a small space with the two of you for over a half-hour. I’m having a hard enough time just standing here.”

They both laughed, and then Ward lifted the folder. “Let’s go get these filed, and have the issue officially cleared with the university, and the school where you’re student teaching,” he said. “By tomorrow, I’ll let you know whether or not it’s actually going to work. I don’t see any reason it wouldn’t.” 

“I hope so,” Cheri said. “This has been causing me a lot more stress than it should.”

“I agree,” Ward said, frowning. “I’m sorry Lewis threatened you like that. Believe me, I’ve been dealing with his shit on stuff like this for years, now; he never learns.” 

“Sounds like he should’ve been fired a long time ago,” Tony said, and Ward sighed. 

“Probably, but he’s got the seniority,” he said. “On top of that, his family donated a lot of money to the university when he got his bachelor’s degree here five hundred years ago, or whenever it was.” Cheri snickered, and Ward smiled a bit, before waving his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of this stuffy building and over to our territory. My office is a lot nicer than that supply closet Lewis has.”

They headed across campus to the Walker School of Arts building, which was nicer inside than the administration building, or whatever it had been. It was a lot more comfortable, in any case, and was decorated with all sorts of indications that it housed the arts programs at ESU. They passed kids practicing instruments, or reading lines from scripts, or drawing elaborate creations on large sketch pads. All of them greeted Ward in some way or another, and he seemed to know all their names, which Tony thought was incredible. 

They reached his office, and it didn’t take long for Ward to scan the documents that Cheri had brought him, and craft an email to the dean of academics, the principle of the school Cheri was student teaching at, her student teaching mentor, and a couple of other important people that needed to know what was going on. It took him maybe five minutes to write the email, and he sent it without any hesitation at all. 

“Done,” he said, turning to her. “Once I get the a-okay from all those people, you’ll be in the clear.”

Cheri leaned back in the chair she was sitting in. “Thank you so much, Doc,” she said. “Seriously.”

“It’s part of my job,” he replied, smiling at her. “It’d be ridiculous to keep you from graduating because you hurt your head. Besides, you need to be out in the schools teaching for real. Holding you back would be a tragedy for everyone involved.” He looked at Tony. “You know how great she is?” 

“I do, actually,” Tony replied, glancing at Cheri, who was looking down, clearly embarrassed. “I’ve never seen her teach, but if she’s anything like her mom -”

“Oh, you know Isabel?” Ward questioned, and Tony nodded. “She is amazing. I was introduced to her a few days ago, and I can tell that she’s very passionate about teaching, too.” He grinned at Cheri again. “Easy to see where you get it from.”

“Okay, please stop,” Cheri said, putting her face in her hands. “Seriously, I want to sink into the floor.” 

“It’s praise!” Ward exclaimed. “Stop being afraid of it!” He shook his head at Tony. “She’s been like this forever.” He smiled wickedly. “This is my favorite, watch.” He turned back to Cheri, and very sweetly asked, “How’s Peter?”

“Stop it!” Cheri said, sitting upright. She seemed flushed with embarrassment. “I’m not - we’re not doing this today!” 

Ward laughed. “I love it.” He looked at Tony again. “So, lunch?”

Tony smiled, and looked at Cheri, who was glowering, arms crossed. “Maybe another time,” he said. “I actually should be getting back over to Stark Tower.” 

“Oh, right,” Ward agreed. “Well, next week, maybe, when we know for sure that we figured this out.” 

“That’s a plan,” Tony said. He stood, looking at Cheri. “Be the go between.”

“Absolutely not,” she responded, standing as well. “I won’t foster this relationship built on picking on me.” 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Ward insisted, shaking Tony’s hand. “I’d never.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Cheri mumbled. “See you later, Doc.”

“I’ll email you,” Ward told her, smiling again. “Keep an eye out for it.” 

“I will,” Cheri said, opening the door of his office. “Bye.” 

“Thanks again,” Tony said to the dean, and he stepped out of the office ahead of Cheri, who pulled the door closed behind them. 

They walked back through the building and outside again. Tony nudged Cheri with his arm as they headed towards her car. “So?” he prompted. 

“Yeah, it went better than I thought,” she admitted, “but only because Doc was around. If he hadn’t been, I’d be exactly where I was before going in there, probably.” Her shoulders fell. “So, I’m glad he was there. I really should have gone to him first, and left Lewis out of it entirely. I just figured that it was smarter to let the person in charge of monitoring my graduation requirements know. Apparently -”

“Yeah, that guy’s a dick,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Be glad you don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

“I wish I could make sure no other student has to deal with him,” Cheri replied. “But he’s kind of locked into his job, so I guess there’s nothing I can do.”

“Sometimes you just have to let things run their course,” Tony agreed. They reached her car, and Cheri glanced at him. 

“Thanks for coming, Mr. Stark,” she said, quietly. “I kind of thought I’d be able to do all that on my own, but having you there helped.”

He smiled a little. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he told her. “I’m glad Peter told me about it, because I know you wouldn’t have.”

“You’re probably right.” She kicked at the snow on the sidewalk, a little sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ve just always kind of needed to defend myself against stuff like this, so it’s… it’s tough for me to realize that I have people in my corner, now.” She looked at him, and offered him a small smile. “But I appreciate your help.”

“C’mere,” Tony said, and Cheri shuffled over to him. He hugged her, and after a moment, she hugged him back, tighter than he expected, but he wasn’t complaining. “We’ve got your back, all right? Me, Pete, and even the whole friggin’ Compound, if necessary. That’s how a family works, and you’re part of this one, now.”

She nodded against his chest, and Tony hugged her for a moment longer before letting her go. She backed away, sniffling, and reached up to swipe at her nose with the sleeve of her jacket. “Thanks,” she said, and smiled at him again, with a bit more strength this time. “You’re really great at this found father thing.”

Tony grinned. “Well, I do have some experience,” he said, and Cheri chuckled. He nodded toward her car. “You okay driving?”

“Yeah,” she said, and she glanced up at the sky. “I should probably get going now, actually, before it starts to snow.” She looked back down at him. “What about you? Did you…” Her eyes widened. “Holy shit. Tony Stark didn’t take the _ subway, _ did he?”

Tony pretended not to hear her. “Go home,” he said. “Let Peter know that he was right; he loves to hear it from you.”

“Yeah, because it happens so rarely,” Cheri said with a snort. She unlocked her car and pulled the door open, sliding in behind the wheel. She looked at him before closing the door again, and tilted her head. “Were you hitting on Dr. Ward?” 

“Me? Hit on a handsome man who’s funny and cares about someone I care about?” Tony asked. He pressed his hand to his chest. “I would never.” 

Cheri rolled her eyes. “You’re kind of a dork.”

“I know,” Tony said, smiling. “And I kind of flirt with everyone, Cheri, you know this.”

“Yes,” she sighed, tiredly. She then paused in the process of closing the door, and looked at him again. “Wait. What about you and Strange?”

Tony hesitated, leaning up on his toes. “We’re… figuring things out.” By this, he meant that they’d had sex three times the night before while completely ignoring the fact that they still needed to have their adult conversation. From the look on Cheri’s face, he could see that she knew that that was exactly what he meant. 

Bless her heart, she didn’t say so aloud. Instead, she closed her car door completely, and started the vehicle. She rolled down the window long enough to say, “Don’t fuck that up, please,” before rolling it up again, and pulling out of the parallel parking spot. Tony watched her drive away, smiling to himself, before shaking his head and reaching inside his coat. He tapped the arc reactor hidden there, on his chest, discarding the coat as his suit formed around him. 

“Tony Stark, take the subway,” he scoffed, removing his glasses as well as the helmet slid up and over his face. “As if.” He launched into the air, coat and glasses hanging from one fist, and headed for the Tower. 

**71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 3:21 PM**

Peter glanced up from his laptop as Cheri walked into the apartment, hanging up her keys and her coat before swinging the door shut. “How’d it go?” he asked, turning his attention back to his work. 

Cheri walked around the couch and sat down next to him. She took the laptop from him, and set it down on the coffee table. Peter raised his eyebrows, watching as she made her way onto his lap instead, facing him. “What’re you doing?” 

In response, she kissed him deeply, curling her fingers into the hair on the back of his head. Peter inhaled through his nose, eyes falling shut, sliding his arms around her waist. 

After a very intense moment, she pulled back a fraction and murmured, “You were right and I hate you for it.” 

Peter grinned. “You can never just let me have the gratification, can you?” he asked, and moved a hand up to the back of her neck to pull her in again. 

“Of course not,” she said through the kiss. Peter ducked his head a little to kiss under her jaw instead, up to the space behind her ear. Cheri tilted her head sideways to allow him easier access, tugging on his hair a little. “Pete?”

“Hm?” 

“Uh. I think we could probably move this to our room, don’t you?” He pulled back to look at her, and she smirked. “I’m pretty sure I have a better way of thanking you in mind.” 

“But -”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, and to prove it, she moved her hips against his in a very obscene way. Peter sucked in a sharp breath, and Cheri’s eyes met his. There was a challenge in her expression, and Peter decided that, fuck it, it was a challenge he wanted to take. 

He stood up, lifting her with him by sliding his hands beneath her thighs. Cheri gasped in surprise, but locked her ankles behind his back, and draped her arms around his neck. She looked very pleased with herself as Peter carried her towards their bedroom, but he decided not to comment on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Ward is basically my high school choir director, just, like, one million times more queer.


	85. The Next Right Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri makes a choice that she hopes is the right one.

**February 17th, 2024 - Somewhere in Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 6:21 PM**

“Well, that sucked,” Peter sighed. “Sorry.”

Cheri lifted her shoulders. “Not a big deal,” she said. “Now we have an excuse to go home and watch a romantic comedy instead.” She slid her arm through his, cuddling closer into his side. “That’s my idea of a much nicer anniversary.” She hesitated. “Which one is it, again?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “One and a half.”

“Right, right,” Cheri replied. “I knew that. I can do math in my head.” They paused at a crosswalk, to wait for the light to change. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment. “You really thought that trying to eat there was a good idea, huh?” 

“How was I supposed to know they’d give our table away to somebody with more money than me?” Peter retorted, playfully. “But you’re right. I should know by now that we’re happiest staying at the apartment with something home cooked and a bad movie.” 

Cheri laughed, and Peter’s phone rang inside his pocket. He extricated it with his free hand, and answered it. 

“Mr. Stark, you’re _ not _ supposed to call me tonight,” he said, impatiently. 

“He’s out,” was Tony’s response, and Peter blinked, before glancing over at Cheri. She looked back at him, an eyebrow raised, and Peter let out a breath. 

“Do we know where he is?” 

“No,” Tony said. “The prison said he left in a limo, though, which means he got in contact with his staff pretty much immediately. They must’ve held his phone and stuff for him.”

“Shit,” Peter said, quietly. “Do you think he’ll try to find her?” 

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted, “but we’ll be ready if he does.” 

“Is this about Stone?” Cheri asked, and Peter looked at her again. Cheri tightened the hold she had on his arm. “I don’t want him around, Pete.”

“I know,” he assured her, and then he spoke to Tony again. “Any advice until we know for sure?”

“My guess is, if he does start looking around, he’ll most likely find Isabel’s address, first,” Tony replied. “In that case, we’ll be able to deter him early on.” He paused. “In the scenario that pulls him directly to your apartment, it might be smart to cooperate with whatever he wants, which’ll probably be to talk to her, but you let me know _ immediately _ if he comes there, okay?” 

“Yeah, all right,” Peter said, quietly. “Fuck.” 

“I know,” Tony agreed. “We’ll deal with it, though. She doesn’t have to be near him if she doesn’t want to be, and if he makes a move, it’ll give us the ammunition we need to make sure it’s illegal for him to get close to her.” 

“Which might be what we want,” Peter concluded. “Okay. Just… I dunno, let me know if you learn anything more, I guess.”

“Will do,” Tony said. “Sorry to interrupt your night with this. Tell Cheri I said hello.” 

Peter lowered his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. Cheri watched him worriedly. “What did he say?” she asked, frowning. 

“Stone’s out of prison,” Peter replied. “He’s already got all his resources available to him again, and Mr. Stark’s not sure what he’ll do next.” He hesitated, and Cheri raised her eyebrows. 

“Tell me,” she insisted. 

“He thinks that he might look for where you live, and if he does, he’ll probably land on your mom’s address,” Peter said, “which Mr. Stark says would be best, because that would give us more of a chance to deter him. If he figures out _ our _ address, we’re supposed to cooperate with him, and tell Mr. Stark that he’s there, so that he’ll deal with it.”

_ “Hijo de puta,” _ Cheri mumbled, and she shook her head tiredly. “This is the worst.” She sighed a little. “Maybe I should just agree to meet with him somewhere, and save us all the trouble.”

“Cheri, no,” Peter started, but she waved him off. 

“It might be the right thing to do,” she said. “That way, I can tell him straight off that I don’t want a relationship with him, _ and _ it’ll keep him from coming to our apartment, or going to my mom’s.” 

Peter shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to do that,” he told her. “We can handle it, okay?”

“I know,” Cheri said, “but it’d be a lot easier for everyone if I dealt with it on my own.” 

“But you don’t _ have _ to,” Peter reminded her. “Didn’t we just finish proving that to you?” Cheri gazed at him for a moment, before she turned away again. Peter let out a sigh. “Cher,” he said, gently. “We can deal with this together, all right? If you don’t want to talk to this guy, ever, you won't have to, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice low. 

They headed back to their apartment in silence. Peter wished he could do more to assure her that it would get dealt with, but he didn’t know what there was left to say. Hopefully, she understood, though, that he wanted more than anything to keep her safe. That was really all he could tell her, at the moment, while there was still so much uncertainty. 

**February 18th, 2024 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 3:41 AM**

Cheri slid out of bed carefully, so that she wouldn’t disturb Peter, and made her way to the desk in their room. She picked up her laptop, and her cell phone, and then exited the bedroom entirely, closing the door behind her.

She walked out into the front room, flipping the light on, and settled down on the couch. She opened her laptop, and pulled up a search engine. After a moment’s hesitation, she typed _ Viastone, _and waited for the results to pull up. When they had, she made note of the phone number for the company itself, and then started to dig a little deeper. 

“Cheri, what the fuck are you doing out here?”

She jumped, and looked over her shoulder, startled. Harry stood in the archway of the hall, arms crossed, looking half-asleep. Cheri exhaled a breath, to steady her heart, and returned her attention to her laptop.

“Nothing,” she told him. “Just some work. Why’re you awake?”

“I wanted some water,” Harry replied. He walked around the couch and sat down next to her. “I really hope this _ work _ you’re doing isn’t a _ bad _ thing.” 

Cheri turned her gaze upwards towards the ceiling. “It’s fine,” she said. “It's the _right_ thing.”

“I bet,” Harry muttered, and Cheri cursed, lowly, before turning a glare towards him. 

“I don’t remember asking you to butt in,” she said, hotly. “Stay out of it.”

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Harry sighed. “Or something that’ll make things so much harder for everyone else.” Cheri did not respond, and he furrowed his brow, knowing that there was no changing her mind. As such, the best he could do was help her. “I’m here, Cheri. What do you need?” 

“I _ need _ you to go back to bed, and forget that you saw me sitting out here,” she said. “Please, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

He studied her for a moment longer, before his shoulders fell. He pushed himself back to his feet, and walked away from the couch, to the kitchen. After getting himself some water, he started back towards his room, hesitating long enough to say, “I hope you’re right.” 

Cheri did not look at him, but her thoughts mirrored his statement. _ I hope so, too. _


	86. ... Might Actually Be The Wrong Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri meets her "dad".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post three chapters this week, so that there's, like, sort of a cliff-hanger-y end on Friday.

**February 19th, 2024 - Starbucks - 1261 Lexington Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 2:45 PM**

Cheri pushed her way into the Starbucks, grateful for the cheery atmosphere inside, paired with the Top 40 playlist that was currently filtering throughout the coffeeshop. It would help ground, her, remind her that she was in a secure, public location. Not that she imagined Stone would hurt her, but. 

Better to be safe, right? 

She spotted Stone himself pretty easily, recognizing him from images she’d seen online while searching for his phone number. It was easy to see why she’d inherited most of her mother’s physical features, considering his hair was blond, and he was very pale. He seemed to be average height, she noted, but his shoulders were wide. He did not look as though he skimped out on trips to the gym. 

He sat at a two-seater table near one of the shop’s many windows, scrolling through his phone. He had two cups of coffee in front of him. Cheri frowned a little, seeing this. Had he really guessed a coffee order for her? They’d had a single text conversation. 

Sighing, she walked over to the table, and stopped next to it. Stone glanced up, and grinned warmly when he saw her. “Hey,” he said, standing. “Wow, you look just like your mom. I noticed that, when I ran into you and Tony at the Chipotle last September.”

“People tell me I look like her all the time,” Cheri agreed. She wasn’t sure why he’d stood up, because she had zero intention of hugging him. Instead, she held out her hand to shake his. “I guess it’s… good to meet you, properly, Mr. Stone.”

“Please, call my Ty,” Stone said, taking her hand between both of his. They were surprisingly warm, but Cheri supposed that could have been from the coffee. “Mr. Stone’s too formal, considering who we are.”

“Okay.” Cheri slid her hand free from his, and he gestured for her to sit. She did so, eyeing the coffee cups warily. Stone nudged one towards her with his knuckles. 

“I just got you the same thing I always get,” he said. “A plain coffee with a shot of espresso and some cinnamon and vanilla.”

Cheri kind of hated that it sounded like just the thing she’d drink. “Thanks,” she said nonetheless, and placed her hands around the cup. “So, uh… I texted and asked if you wanted to meet.”

“Right,” Stone said, smiling again. “I’m glad that you did.”

“But...” His smile fell. “I… I’m not super sure that I want… a personal relationship with you.” 

There was a moment of silence. Cheri looked down at the top of the coffee cup, wishing that she hadn’t needed to be so blunt, but it was the truth, wasn’t it? What else was there to say? 

After a second, Stone said, “Well, I appreciate how straightforward you are,” he said. “That must be something you get from your mom, too, because I can talk around an issue for days if necessary.” He managed a short laugh, and then cleared his throat. “Anyway, uh, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, from your mom or Tony or whoever, but… I know I’m not the greatest guy. I’ve done some pretty bad things, to help myself, and believe me, if I could go back and do certain things differently, I would.” 

Cheri glanced up. He was watching her carefully; she knew now whom she’d gotten her dark brown eyes from. The gene must’ve been dominant over her mother’s hazel. “But, Cheri, I… I’d really like to get to know you,” he said. “I missed your entire life, and I hate that so much. I’ll probably never know why your mom didn’t tell me about you, or vice versa, but… you’re an adult now, and you have the ability to make your own choice on this.” 

Cheri gazed at him without speaking, mostly because she had no idea what to respond with. He was right, she knew, but really, with what she knew about the things he’d done, her original decision still stood: she did not want a relationship with him. She had never had one with him. She did not need one with him now. She’d met with him completely with the intention of making sure that he understood that, before he tried to insert himself into her life, so that no one else would need to deal with him. 

Stone studied her for a second, before he said, “Okay. You need some convincing, which I respect. Why don’t we start small, then? Uh… what’s - I mean. You’re in college.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m studying to be a music teacher.”

He smiled a bit. “That’s great,” he said. “You like music?” She nodded. “Do you have a favorite artist?”

“I - yeah, I guess so,” she said. “Uh, the Four Seasons. I really like their music a lot, even if it’s kind of old.”

“You kidding? The 50’s and 60’s are the best,” Stone said, smiling more, now. Cheri did not have to struggle to smile back. She always appreciated knowing someone else who liked the music from back in the day. “Do you like other groups from back then?” 

She lifted her shoulders. “I like music from every decade, and every genre. It’s - I don’t know. I’ve been able to play the piano since I could walk, and I had vocal lessons until I was… thirteen, I think. Mom saw that I was good at something, and passionate about it, and decided to run with it.” She shrugged again. “I think she wanted me to have an outlet, too.”

“That’s awesome,” Stone said. “Did your mom end up teaching? I remember her telling me that that was what she wanted to do.”

“Uh… it took her a while,” Cheri said, “but yeah, she’s teaching. She couldn’t really raise me on a teacher’s salary, though, so she had to wait until I was able to take care of myself first.”

Stone nodded his agreement. “That makes sense. Sucks, but it makes sense.” He hesitated. “But… she did raise you okay? It sounds like it.”

“Yeah,” Cheri said. “She did the best she could. And then her parents helped, too, for a while. We lived with them until I was eight.”

“Okay,” Stone said. “Did you learn Spanish?”

“As my first language,” Cheri confirmed. _ “Para ellos era importante que lo supiera.” _

Stone surprised her by replying, _ “Entonces es genial que hayas aprendido.” _ Cheri actually smiled again, and he smiled back, spreading his hands. “I learned Spanish pretty early on, too.” 

“Cool,” she said, and she fiddled with her coffee. Realistically, she shouldn’t have been afraid to drink it, but she was. 

“You moved out of your grandparents’ when you were eight,” Stone clarified, and she nodded. “Where’d you move to?”

“Uh, Brooklyn,” Cheri said. “My mom got a job with Oscorp, and she found a pretty good school district in Brooklyn, so she decided that was the best place for us. It… it was pretty rough, moving out of Washington Heights, and the school wasn’t very welcoming, towards me, but I made a pretty close friend who helped watch out for me.” She smiled a little. “He’s actually one of my best friends, still.” 

Stone cocked an eyebrow. “He’s not a special friend, is he?” 

Cheri glanced at him again. “No, not at all,” she said. “We gave it a shot in high school, and it sucked bad, so we went back to just being friends instead.” She hesitated. “But I am dating someone. We actually celebrated a year and a half together two days ago.” 

“Congratulations,” Stone said. “That’s pretty serious.”

“Yeah,” Cheri agreed. “I’m actually kind of amazed we’ve lasted this long, considering some of the stuff we’ve gone through.” She was silent for a moment, before shaking her head and looking at him again. “Anyway. What, uh… my mom told me that you guys were together during the spring of her last year at MIT.” Stone nodded. “And that you gave her this.” She pulled out her necklace, and he studied it for a moment, before blinking in recognition and smiling a bit. 

“I remember that,” he said. “I like to spend money on people I care about, and she’d noticed that necklace and commented on how nice it was. I bought it for her without thinking twice.” He paused, and then admitted, “I’m kind of surprised that she kept it, considering how our relationship ended.”

“Not… amicably?” Cheri asked, and Stone shook his head. 

“Not really. I wanted to go to California, and she wanted to stay in Boston. We argued about it, and then the age difference came into play, and that was… that was kind of it, between us.” He let out a breath of air. “I guess I don’t blame her for not trying to get in contact with me. I probably would’ve ignored her, if she’d reached out.”

Well, at least he was honest about it. Cheri glanced down again. “Oh well,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s one conclusion, definitely,” Stone said with a small laugh. He took a drink of his own coffee, and then said, “So. Did Tony hire you because you had the best resume, or was there more to it?” 

Cheri shook her head. “My boyfriend’s actually pretty close with him,” she said. “When Tony learned that I needed to make some money last summer, he offered me the job. He’s pretty generous, too.”

Stone nodded. “That’s part of the reason we were such good friends, I think. Not anymore, obviously, but, when we were.” He glanced at her, and she thought he sort of looked afraid. “Did… did he tell you why we aren’t close anymore?” 

Cheri did not reply at first, phrasing her answer carefully. “He said it had something to do with… your desire for more publicity, rather than your worry about his well being, after he came back from… y’know. Being kidnapped and held in a cave for months.”

Stone glanced down, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he agreed, quietly. “And then I never apologized for that.” 

Cheri’s phone vibrated in her coat pocket, and she reached down to grab it, then decided that would probably be rude, and retracted her hand again. Stone watched this, clearly a little amused. 

“You can get that, if you need to,” he told her. 

She hesitated a moment, before sliding her hand into her pocket. She retrieved her phone, and was unsurprised to see a text from Peter. She’d tried to tell him that she’d probably be home later today, but he hadn’t really believed the half-assed excuse she’d given him. 

> _** Pete:** You still at school? _
> 
> _** Me:** Yeah, sorry. I’ll probably be here for another hour, at least. _
> 
> _** Pete:** Okay. Just keep me updated, if you can. _

She slid her phone away again, shaking her head a little. “Sorry, boyfriend,” she said. “He’s worried.”

“Because of me?” She glanced at Stone, and saw that he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d told him the answer was yes. 

“He… he actually doesn’t even know I asked to meet with you,” she admitted. “He’s… well. He’s close with Tony, so.”

“Yeah, it makes sense,” Stone said, quietly. “I feel like you should’ve told him, though.” 

“I will,” Cheri said. “Eventually. I just… I wanted to see what happened here, first, before deciding whether or not he needed to know.” 

“And have you made your decision?” Stone asked. “Because I’d like to meet him someday. Not to give him the talk or anything, but. You know. He’s clearly important to you, and I’d like to… be part of that, too.”

Cheri let out a slow breath. “Mr. Stone -”

“Ty,” he insisted. 

She studied him. “Ty,” she said, carefully. “It - meeting you went against the advice of everyone I talked to. I just wanted to… I don’t know. I guess intercept you, before you made a choice that caused a mess for… well, everybody who thinks this is a bad idea. It - I mean. They were talking about setting up protective measures, in order to keep you away. They _ really _ did not want me to meet you at _ all. _ And I - I know them, all of them, and I _ don’t know _ you, which makes it hard for me to completely disregard their opinions.” She paused for a moment, feeling bad, even though she shouldn’t have. “I’m sorry that I have to be so straight-forward with this, but I need to know that… you aren’t getting in contact with me now, because you _ want _ something.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Stone let his gaze fall to the tabletop, and Cheri fiddled with her coffee cup. She still hadn’t drank any of the liquid inside of it. 

Finally, Stone exhaled, and glanced up again. “I - it makes sense,” he admitted. “For them to be worried that I… I want something, but… Cheri, you just have to take my word for it when I say that I only want to get to know you because you’re my kid.” She furrowed her brows, and he lifted his shoulders. “I’ve never taken life seriously enough to think that I could be a dad, someday. Like, everything I’ve done has been as far from dad-like as possible. My dad sucked, and so why would I risk also being a dad who sucks, right?

“But I have a kid. A daughter. Whether or not I intended to. And it seems only right that I make up for all the years I missed out on in her life, for one reason or another.” He gestured to the space between them. “Hence this, me wanting to meet you. I know I can’t necessarily be a _ dad, _ considering I missed out on raising you, but it - I’d like to be involved in your life. In anyway that you want me to be. And in that case, it is sort of selfish, but not… not because I want anything _ from _ you. I just want to get to know you, and like, be there, if you ever need me to be.”

Cheri stared at him after his monologue without speaking. He seemed genuine enough, but it was as he had said earlier: he was a businessman. He knew how to get things he wanted, he knew how to convince people, to sway them over to his side in certain matters. And the tiny part of her that had grown to be wary of every little thing since her SHIELD training was sending alarms through her whole being. They coursed up and down her rib cage, pulsed in her temples. There was something _ off _ about Tiberius Stone. Something embedded in her soul knew it, and was doing its damnedest to make sure she knew it, too. 

She thought Tony would be proud of her decision, which, she was amazed to note, was what mattered most to her in that particular moment. She supposed she’d already found her father, if that was the case, and really had no need for Stone to step in and fill the gap, because there wasn’t one. Not anymore. 

She licked her lips, and pushed her chair back from the table, standing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone,” she said, speaking clearly, “but something inside of me is saying that I should listen to the people I know I trust, and I think I have to agree with it.” She pushed the coffee back towards him. “You could probably ask them to microwave that for you, if you wanted to take it to go. Please don’t try to contact me again.” 

With that, she turned and walked through the tables and to the doors of the Starbucks, pushing her way outside without looking back. She exhaled a breath of air, and sucked in a new one, cold in her lungs. It was kind of refreshing.

She pulled her phone out again, and sent another text to Peter. 

> _** Me:** Change of plans, they’re letting me go. _
> 
> _** Pete:** Oh, good. See you at home soon, then. :) _

She smiled, and walked to her car, feeling pretty damn good about herself. 

Right up until she was shoved into from behind, her head knocking against the roof of her car, and effectively knocking her unconscious. After that, she didn’t really feel much of anything.

Stone caught Cheri under the arms as she went limp, feeling a little bad about having need to do that. She was his daughter, after all. After setting her into the backseat of the blue Honda she’d been walking to, he retrieved her phone, and sent a text message to a conversation that was close to the top of her list, much to Stone's chagrin. 

> _** Me:** Hello, babycake. Guess who? _

It took about thirty seconds for the phone to ring in his hand. Stone answered the call with a self-satisfied smile, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he queried, easily. 

“What the fuck have you done to her?” Tony demanded from the other end. 

“Nothing,” Stone said. “I’d never harm my daughter, what kind of monster do you take me for?” 

“The worst kind,” Tony snapped. “What do you want from me?” 

“Well.” Stone leaned back against the car, crossing his arms and holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. “A few things, but we’ll start with the big one: I want everything you have on Spider-Man, maybe even Spider-Man himself.”

There was a moment of silence. “For what?” Tony asked, finally, and Stone chuckled. 

“I’m sure you can take a few guesses and get it eventually.” 

Another paused. “You - you want info for Horizon Labs,” Tony said, carefully. “You’re still working with them.”

“On occasion,” Stone agreed with a small shrug. “This time around, they’re enlisting my help to deal with the spider infestation, since I was part of the team that helped create it in the first place. They want me to bring him back to the source. I figure you’re the best person to help me accomplish that, since Iron Man and Spider-Man are so buddy-buddy.”

“You’re insane,” Tony decided. “I’m not - no. Spider-Man’s just a kid.”

“So’s Cheri,” Stone pointed out. “One for the other, pumpkin.” 

There was an even larger moment of silence this time. Stone knew that Tony was weighing his options, calculating the possibility of him figuring out where Stone would take Cheri in order to get her back without risking Spider-Man. He was also wondering if Stone already knew anything about Spider-Man, which…

Well. He knew more than he had implied.

Finally, Tony spoke again: “You’re not getting shit from me, and you’re not going to do anything to Cheri, either.”

Stone chuckled. “I already told you I’d never hurt Cheri,” he said. “It’s more a matter of if you’ll ever see her again.”

“You can’t… this is _ kidnapping!” _ Tony said, sharply. 

“Even if it is, how often is a kidnapped person ever returned home?” Stone asked. “I’m afraid the odds are against you on this one, cupcake. Not everyone is as lucky as you are.” 

“Don’t do this, Ty,” Tony said, very quietly now. Stone had missed the sound of his begging voice. “Please. I - they both mean everything to me, and I can’t… why would you want to hurt me again?” 

Stone smiled blithely. “You know that our relationship has been one long game, Tony,” he said. “Back and forth, for the longest time. I figured why stop now?”

“Ty -”

“You have twenty-four hours before we leave the state,” Stone said, cutting him off. “I’d make up my mind quick, old friend, even though I know how much you like to overthink things.”

With that, he lowered Cheri’s phone and ended the call. He then tossed it into the car, and followed its lead, sitting down behind the wheel. Thank God for a mode of transportation he could carry an unconscious twenty-year-old in. It made things so much easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess the end of this chapter is pretty cliff-hanger-y too.


	87. A Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tells Peter, who reacts appropriately.

**February 19th, 2024 - Stark Tower - Broadway and W. 58th., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 3:12 PM**

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” 

Tony continued his quiet chant as he paced the length of the elevator, which he was taking down to Peter’s R&D floor. Once the doors opened on the floor, he hurried out of them and towards Peter’s workstation. Thankfully, the kid was there, hunched over a prototype of some kind, tongue between his teeth as he maneuvered some wires with a pair of tweezers. 

“Pete,” Tony said, softly, to get his attention without startling him. Peter turned to look at him, lifting the goggles he was wearing, and immediately frowned when he saw the expression on Tony’s face. 

“What is it?” he asked, pulling the goggles off fully and setting down his tool. “Mr. Stark?” 

“Not here,” Tony said, and jerked his head. “C’mon.”

Peter followed him to one of the testing rooms off the main floor, and he watched as Tony locked the door behind them to make sure no one would intrude. Tony then turned to face him, and Peter spread his hands. “You know you shouldn’t freak me out like this, Mr. Stark. What the hell is going on?” 

Tony rubbed at his jaw for a moment. “Uh. Stone has Cheri.” The fuck was the point of walking around it? “And he gave me twenty four hours to decide between giving up Spider-Man and getting her back, or taking her out of the state, which would make it more difficult to find her - what are you doing?” 

Peter was stripping out of his lab coat and button up shirt underneath. His suit waited beneath that. “I’m gonna go find her right now,” he said without looking at Tony, shucking off his jeans. 

“Kid, did you not listen to anything I just said? Stone wants _ you,” _ Tony said, sharply. He reached out to grab Peter’s arm, only to miss completely as Peter back-flipped out of the way, landing on his feet. 

“Don’t,” he said, in a tone that indicated the word was very much a warning. “I mean it, Tony. I have to rescue her.”

“Okay,” Tony said, putting up his hands. The kid never used his first name. He _was_ serious. “I’m not arguing with you. But we need to think this through, considering you’re Stone’s real target.” 

“I don’t give a shit about me!” Peter exclaimed. “My girlfriend is in danger! She’s - she’s the only person I’ve ever been in love with, and she’s going to be hurt because some psychopath wants _ me.” _

“No, she’ll be hurt because you’ll go in there without coming up with a plan, first, and fuck it up before we even have a chance of getting out of this with both of you safe and sound,” Tony argued, keeping his tone even. 

“Mr. Stark, Cheri is in _ immediate danger -” _

“No, she isn’t,” Tony said. “Right now, the biggest risk is losing track of her. I got the location of where Stone called me from, and it was the Starbucks on Lexington. From there, they could’ve gone anywhere in New York. Tomorrow, if I don’t give him an answer, he’s going to take her out of the _ state. _ Which means we need to figure out what we’re doing _ now, _ before he has a chance to do that.”

Peter stared at him for a moment longer, his shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to regulate his breathing. Finally, he bowed his head. “Fine,” he muttered. “How’re we saving my girlfriend?”

“And you,” Tony said. “Remember that you’re an important part of this equation, too. And the answer to your question is… by asking for help.” He pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. It rang several times before someone picked up on the other end. “Rogers? We have a situation.”

“Tony, I _ can’t _ lose her,” Peter said, softly, and Tony glanced at him. There was fear in his eyes, genuine fear, and Tony knew that they needed to take care of this sooner than later, before Peter did anything rash to ensure Cheri’s safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, right, and three chapters this week covers for how short this one is in comparisons to others.


	88. Daddy's Gonna Buy You A Mockingbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri and Stone have a family get together.

**February 19th, 2024 - Unknown Location, NY, USA - 5:31 PM**

Cheri began to stir when she heard a noise that she’d recognize even in the darkest recesses of unconsciousness. The sound would embed itself in her dreams, or wake her up, and, luckily for her, this particular version was the type to wake her up. She’d know the Four Seasons’ _ December, 1963 _ anywhere. She was painfully reminded that of the night she and Tony had been meant to go see _ Jersey Boys, _ but had then decided to get ice cream instead. The song had played while they were discussing constellations. Currently, she’d give up the possibility of graduating on time to be back in that night instead of wherever she was. 

Things were starting to come back to her. Meeting Stone at the Starbucks. Telling him that she had no interest in forming any sort of relationship with him. Leaving the Starbucks, texting Peter… 

_ Peter. _Fuck, she really hoped that Stone hadn’t accessed her phone, and gotten in contact with him in any sort of way. If he knew that she’d been kidnapped, he’d come looking for her as soon as possible, and they had no idea what that would mean for him, or for her. He could be in danger, if he came after her. 

Thus, her mission was set: _G__otta get in touch with someone, to make sure Peter stays the hell away from wherever I am. _

She lifted her head, blinking her blurry eyes until her vision cleared even the tiniest bit more. She found herself lying in a pretty comfortable bed, complete with a purple canopy draping down over the two sides. She was not tied to the bed, thankfully, which gave her the ability to sit up. Her head, which had only recently gotten better from the fracture she'd sustained, ached anew from the headache caused by it smacking against the roof of her car. A distant thought hoped that the car itself was okay, because she didn’t want Tony upset. 

She took a moment, allowing herself to get used to the pounding ache, which blurred her vision considerably. When she thought she could hold her head up without wanting to vomit, she blinked a few more times, and looked around the room proper. 

It was a pretty opulent suite, bigger than the ones at the Compound, even. A door was propped open, showing into a bathroom, and another door most likely led to a walk-in closet. A flat-screen TV hung from the wall across from the bed, and the walls were painted a light gray. Sheer curtains hung over the window, which also had a seat built into it. There was a desk, but no computer, and when she looked around for her phone, she didn’t spot it. That was unsurprising. 

“Fuck,” she muttered aloud, deciding it was a pretty accurate, if simplistic conclusion to the circumstances she found herself in. She managed to stand up, and headed towards the door that she hoped led out of the room. She tested the knob, and was a little shocked to find that it wasn’t locked. 

She pulled open the door, and stepped out of the room. The door led into a hall that dead-ended to her left, so she followed it to the right. It opened up into the second-level of a foyer, she thought, with staircases leading down on two sides. She took the one on her right, the music growing louder as she moved down to the tile floor on the first-level, and glanced around the foyer for a moment. A hallway led straight back, between the two staircases. There was a set of glass double doors against the wall furthest from her. The front door was closer, and she went to it, walking slowly, careful to avoid making noise. 

She was almost able to touch the door handle when the glass doors to her left opened, after the music cut out abruptly. “Good, you’re awake!” 

She winced, and turned to look at Stone, who was beaming at her from where he stood in the doorway of what looked to be an office. 

“What do you want?” Cheri asked, carefully, not moving away from the front door. 

“I don’t want anything from you, darling daughter,” Stone told her. “I’ve already spoken to the person who can give me what I want, and I promise that once I have it, you’ll be free to go.”

“So I’m a bargaining chip,” Cheri concluded, sourly. “I fucking knew it. I was an idiot to contact you at all.” Her vision darkened for a moment, and she squeezed her eyes shut, leaning against the door. “Fuck,” she said again, breathing outwards slowly. That nauseous feeling was back. She really hoped that she hadn’t gotten another concussion, but it was seeming more and more likely that she had. 

“Oh, does your head hurt?” Stone asked, frowning. “I’m sorry. I had to knock you out, though, because I doubted you’d come willingly.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have come willingly,” Cheri grumbled. She risked opening her eyes as soon as the nausea passed, and scowled at him. “What is it that you’re bargaining for, exactly?”

Stone chuckled. “Really, Cheri, you’d think you’d be smarter than that, with both your parents having gone to MIT.” Cheri merely continued to frown at him, and he sighed. “Your boyfriend, obviously.” 

She blinked, staggering backwards a few paces, her fears from before confirmed. Getting Peter involved was an end goal, in all this. “You know about -?”

“Of course I know about Peter being Spider-Man,” Stone said, rolling his eyes. “Peter Parker managed to get an “internship” with Stark Industries around the same time that Spider-Man really started to make a scene over in Queens. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. You merely provided the icing on my already delicious cake by telling me how close Peter is to Tony.”

_ Fuck shit. Why did I have to tell him so much? _

To disguise her frustration with herself, Cheri said, “You think that Tony’s going to give him up for me?” She scoffed. “You must be joking. Peter means _ everything _ to Tony.” 

“Funny,” Stone said, crossing his arms. “When I talked to Tony, he told me that you mean everything to him, too. I have to wonder what he’s to do in a situation like that, wherein he can only save one of the people that apparently means _ everything _ to him.” He shrugged. “I’d probably immediately go to the one I still have access too, tell him what’s going on, thinking we’d come up with a plan, only to realize that telling him was the _ wrong _ choice, because _he’ll_ immediately come after the person who means everything to _him,_ thus putting himself at risk in order to save you.”

Cheri shook her head. “Peter wouldn’t do that,” she said, even though she’d been thinking that he would do that very thing not five minutes earlier. “And, anyway, Tony wouldn’t let him.”

Stone merely smiled. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?” He then gestured. “In the meantime, make yourself comfortable, familiarize yourself with the life you might’ve had, had your mother not been wise enough to keep you a secret from me.” 

“Fuck you,” Cheri said, hotly, and she turned towards the front door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling it open. She stumbled outside, security alarms blaring from within the house almost immediately. The sun had gone down already, but the front drive was well lit by security lights. It traced maybe fifty yards down a deep slope towards a gate that Cheri did not trust herself to climb in her current condition, especially since she was seeing two of everything. 

Instead, she made her way around the house, which was more of a mansion, really. She could hear Stone trailing after her, whistling casually, as though he were following an overactive child towards a playground, where he knew very well that the kid would use up most of their energy, and then conk out for the rest of the day. In a way, that was exactly what was going to happen, if Cheri didn’t take things carefully, and think each move through. 

“I wouldn’t consider escape,” Stone called to her absently. “We’re pretty far upstate, sort of in the back country. The nearest city is maybe fifteen miles away. My parents loved their isolation, especially after we almost went bankrupt thanks to Tony’s father back in the 80’s.” 

Cheri ignored him, aside from the important bits about their location, and continued her steady progress to the rear of the mansion. The backyard was a wide space complete with a large pool and a tennis court off in the distance. The thing that caught Cheri’s interest was a set of doors built at a slight angle into the ground near the building. A cellar. If she could get in there, and Stone came down to find her… 

It was hinging a lot on her ability to sneak around him and out of there before he spotted her, but if she _ could… _ she’d be able to trap him down there, and then figure out a way to get in touch with someone. At the moment, it seemed like her only shot at getting out of this without waiting for someone to come find her, and risk themselves in the process. 

She walked to the cellar, and pulled one door open, before carefully making her way down the ladder on the inside. It was dingy in the room itself, obviously, and she noticed a light dangling from the ceiling. She reached up and smashed the bulb, not caring that a couple of shards sliced into the mound of her palm. She ripped part of her shirt off and tied it around her hand so that she wouldn’t drip blood everywhere, and glanced around at what she could see despite the darkness. 

There was a lot of shit down there. Shit that she could make use of as hiding places. Half-finished woodworking projects, crates filled with Stone family memorabilia, all that good stuff that she could duck behind and follow back towards the ladder, once Stone was down here with her. 

She made her way towards a shelf that was at the very back of the basement, and waited. 

She heard Stone approach the cellar, because he was still whistling. The whistling stopped however, as he seemed to take in the scenario that she’d brought him to. She listened as he let out a low chuckle. It was not a friendly sound. 

“Oh, sweet Cheri,” Stone said. “You have to be kidding, darling. I’m not going to fall for your ‘trap Daddy in the cellar’ trick.” 

Cheri did not reply. She realized, now, that it would have been smart to perhaps leave some sort of indication outside that she hadn’t actually gone down into the cellar, after thinking about it. He probably would have investigated the cellar anyway, thinking she’d been trying to outsmart him. 

Still, there was a chance. He might weigh his choices, and wonder if she _ had _ avoided the cellar, and decide to check it all the same. There was an entrance up to the mansion, she knew; she’d spotted it when working her way back to where she now hid. Whether or not it was unlocked, she had no idea, and thought that Stone might not know, either. 

It was a game. Who could outsmart the other. And, despite what Stone thought, Cheri knew that the easiest way to outsmart a genius was through the simplest of maneuvers. 

After a moment, she heard Stone sigh a little, and he came down the ladder. She could see his outline only, due to the darkness, but it was enough, as long as she continued to listen. Stone even chose to be a little helpful, apparently, because he actually began to sing a quiet tune as he began to search the space. 

_ “Hush, little Cheri, don’t say a word. _ _   
_ _ Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. _   
_ And if that mockingbird don’t sing, _ _   
Daddy’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”_

Cheri squeezed her eyes shut for a very long moment, listening as Stone moved things around, poking through the darkness for her. The sound of his voice indicated that he’d headed towards the left of the cellar, first, probably thinking that she’d stick close to the ladder to try for her escape. Idiot. 

“I don’t want any of your fucking presents,” she whispered, and darted towards a different object as he moved further into the cellar, bringing her back towards the ladder. She waited for him to move on before making another break for it, dodging to a box and ducking behind it instead. Stone’s voice was even farther away, now. They were in opposite corners of the cellar. Cheri had a five foot open space between her and the ladder. 

She reached up into the box she hid behind, and grabbed the first heavy thing she touched, drawing it down to her. She couldn’t believe her luck when she realized she was holding a steel baseball bat. For whatever reason, she could not imagine that Stone had, at any point in his life, willingly played baseball. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Stone invited, cheerfully, although there was an undertone of annoyance that she could hear. 

“Not on your life,” Cheri muttered, and fled towards the ladder. She made quite a bit of noise clambering up it, and heard Stone spin around. 

“Cheri!” he said, and now there was an almost manic quality to his voice. “I found you!”

She reached the top of the ladder, and slammed the cellar door shut, before forcing the thinner end of the baseball bat through the metal handles on the doors. They rattled as Stone pushed against them a moment later, but Cheri was already running back around the mansion to the front door, which still hung open. The alarms were off, now, no doubt shut off by an app or something on Stone’s phone. She couldn’t stay in the house for long, without knowing about the cellar door leading inside. She needed to get to a phone, or a laptop. 

She ducked into the room with the glass doors just off the front entrance, and was relieved to see there was a corded phone on the edge of the oak wood desk in the center of the large office. She dashed to it, and dialed the first number that came to mind, which was, oddly, her mother’s cell. 

Isabel answered on the second ring, which, Cheri supposed, was a blessing in of itself; usually her mother ignored numbers that she did not recognize. “Hello?” she asked, cautiously.

“Mom, it’s me,” Cheri gasped into the receiver. “I’m - I’m somewhere upstate, Stone brought me here. I need -” She cut off as she heard a door slam from somewhere deeper in the house, and she grabbed the phone off the desk, crawling beneath it to hide. She continued to speak, in a whisper this time: “I need you to find me, please, he wants Peter, and I can’t - I can’t put him at risk, Mom, _ please.” _

“Are you hurt?” was Isabel’s response, and Cheri winced. She could hear Stone making his way up the hallway she’d noticed, beneath the stairs. 

“I think I might have a concussion,” she said, softly. “I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here, once he knows I called someone. _ Help me.” _

“I will, _ mija, _ don’t worry,” her mother assured. “Just remember what you learned in your training.” 

Cheri swallowed thickly, the adrenaline that had been keeping her upright for the last twenty minutes or so starting to wear off. _ “Te amo,” _ she murmured, and then placed the receiver back into its cradle, just as Stone paused in the doorway of the office. 

“Cheri, Cheri, Cheri,” he said, disapprovingly. “I know you don’t understand how things work in the Stone household, but _ really, _ it’s just common courtesy.”

Cheri closed her eyes, and did not respond, nor did she move. Her head swam with more nausea, and she supposed she was lucky to have gotten this far without collapsing, which she felt very close to doing at the moment. As such, she barely reacted when Stone came around the desk, and bent down to look beneath it. He grinned when he saw her. 

“There you are,” he said, and held out his hand. “Come on out. I need to patch up that hand; I promised Tony that you wouldn’t be hurt.”

“Stay away from me,” Cheri mumbled, turning her head so that she wouldn’t have to look at him. 

“C’mon, darling,” he insisted. “You know it’ll feel better with a proper bandage.” 

“I don’t want your _ fucking _ bandage,” Cheri spat. “I don’t want _ anything _ from you. Stay _ away _ from me. I’m not going to tell you again.”

Stone gazed at her for a moment, before sighing. He tugged the phone away from her; Cheri let it go. What good was it going to do her, now? 

“Who’d you call?” he queried.

“No one.”

“Cheri, don’t lie to me.”

“Why not? You said you can’t hurt me, so really, I have nothing to lose,” Cheri said, flatly. “And anyway, I’m not lying. I didn’t get to it in time.” She met his gaze. “Seriously. I can barely move without wanting to throw up; you think I got here quick enough to call somebody?” 

He stared at her for a very long moment. Finally, he pointed at her. “I’m going to trust you,” he said. “But remember: I didn’t say anything about not hurting Peter.”

“No!” Cheri said immediately, the majority of her awareness flaring up in her mind all at once. 

Stone lifted an eyebrow. “So?” he prompted, and Cheri inhaled slowly, her eyes closing.

“I didn’t call anyone,” she muttered. “What would I have told them? I have no idea where we are. I don’t want Peter showing up here and getting hurt.” She looked at him again, glowering. “I wouldn’t do anything to risk that.” 

“Not even if it meant you getting out of here?” Stone prompted, sounding as though he didn’t believe her. 

“No,” Cheri said. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep him safe, and if that means I… I’m stuck here, then so be it.” She looked down, and idly noticed that her hands were shaking. “Peter comes first.” 

She could feel Stone watching her, still. “You really do care for this boy,” he said at last, sounding the tiniest bit amused. 

“I love him,” Cheri replied, plainly. “I’d do whatever I can to protect him. And that’s coming into play right now. I want him away from you, and whatever the fuck you plan on doing to him.” 

Stone chucked a little. “There’s promise in you, definitely. I think we could make a Stone out of you yet.” 

_ I’ll never be a Stone, you dick, _Cheri thought, privately, and hoped that her expression did not show her disgust at the idea. 

“You’ll be happy with me,” Stone told her. “You won’t feel that way at first, but eventually, you’ll come to realize that this was the life you deserve, carrying Stone DNA.” 

“Absolutely not ever,” Cheri said, saying it aloud this time. 

Stone merely smiled at her, replacing the phone on the desktop. “Come on,” he said. “I really do think we need to bandage your hand, and I can give you something for your headache.” 

Cheri chose not to move, and Stone sighed a bit. “Fine,” he said, standing. “Come find me when you change your mind.” 

With that, he walked away. Cheri listened to him go, before burying her face against her knees and breathing outwards, shakily. It was time for her to rely on her family. Her _ real _ family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Alfred Coleman for being INTENSELY creepy during [this section](https://youtu.be/mQ2xcYFMloQ?t=2210) of the Real-Time Fandub Games video for Resident Evil 2 and pretty much inspiring this whole chapter because of course I was going to get Stone being this creepy in here somewhere after hearing that song.


	89. Origin Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tells Steve the story of Spider-Man.

**February 19th, 2024 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate NY, USA - 6:00 PM **

The call from Cheri to Isabel, which Isabel had called to tell Tony about, had been the final indicator that they really needed to get moving. Tony had started to lay out a system of searches, each party including two or three members, all focused someplace upstate, since that was where Cheri had said she was. 

Peter sat in his suite, head hanging between his hands. He could’ve been out in the living room with everyone else, but he wasn’t sure he could be in there and maintain a sort of calm front. He wanted to _ go, _ right then, but was being forced to _ wait, _ and it was pissing him off. 

And the phone call. Fuck, he hoped that Cheri hadn’t put herself in a dangerous position in order to make it. They would have been able to find her, if she’d called or not. 

Still. At least they knew she was okay. Even though she apparently had _ another _ concussion. It’d be a miracle if she made it through this without any sort of memory loss. Or, like, brain injury. 

Peter let out a breath, and placed his head in his hands. He wished there was more he could do. 

There was a knock on the door of his suite, and then it opened to reveal Tony, who looked a little wary. “Pete?” he asked, gently, and Peter merely shook his head without glancing up. “Hey, we’ve finished figuring out where each team is going to look. You, me, and Rogers are going to head further upstate, to check out the mansion that the Stones had near Galway. It’s pretty far out, which might have been something Stone wanted.”

“Okay,” Peter said. He reached for his mask and stood, sliding it over his head. “How far?”

“About two hours,” Tony said. “You and Steve are gonna drive; I’m gonna go ahead, since the suit flies faster.” 

“What? Mr. Stark, no,” Peter said at once. “You could get hurt.”

“Stone can’t hurt me,” Tony assured. “We don’t even know if they’re there, but I thought it might be the most likely place, considering its isolation.” He tilted his head, taking Peter in. “I wish you’d stay here.”

“Absolutely not,” Peter responded. 

“Yeah, I know,” Tony sighed. “All right, c’mon then. You’re taking one of the Audis.”

Peter followed him out of the suite and to the living room. It was vacated, now, aside from Steve, who looked serious and ready to do whatever needed to be done in order to get Cheri back, and, no doubt, to keep Peter out of danger in the process. 

“Okay,” Tony started once all three of them were together, “we’re going to do this as quietly as possible. We’re not going in expecting them to actually be there; for right now, it’s a scoping out mission more than anything.”

“If it turns out they _ are _ there?” Steve asked. 

“Then we’ll reconn, and figure out the best way to get Cheri out of there,” Tony replied, crossing his arms. “I’m flying ahead, and I should be there in maybe thirty minutes. Once I get there, I’ll see what I can do with FRIDAY to find out if the place has been occupied recently. If it _ has… _ well. I’ll go from there, since you two will still be miles away.”

“Don’t go in there without backup,” Peter put in, frowning at his mentor. “We don’t know what he could be capable of, especially when he’s been working with Horizon Labs.” He blinked, and turned away again. “Fuck.”

“What?” Tony asked, immediately concerned. 

Peter sighed. “I just realized that he’ll probably have some of those repulsors that kill my powers,” he said. “He probably expects me to show up to save her, on my own.”

Tony exhaled. “Right. I forgot about that.” He turned to Steve. “That just means you and I will need to be hyper-aware.” 

“Got it,” Steve said, frowning a bit. “So, this guy… he was partly responsible for what happened to give you your powers?” he asked Peter, who nodded, and then waved his hand. 

“It’s a long story.”

“Tell it to him on your drive up,” Tony said, tapping the arc reactor on his chest. His suit formed around him, and he continued, “The address is already in the Audi’s GPS. Just follow the blue line. See you in two hours.”

He walked from the living room, boots clanking, and Steve glanced at Peter, whose shoulders were very tense. “It’s gonna be fine,” he said, and Peter started, looking over at him. 

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, absently, and then started towards the elevator, so that they could get down to the parking garage. 

The last thing he wanted was to spend a two hour car ride recounting his origin story to Captain America of all people, but that seemed to be where his future lay. He slid into the passenger seat of the Audi, tugging down his mask, and studied his HUD as Steve navigated the car out of the parking garage, and to the nearest freeway that would get them as far north as Galway. Karen was silent in his ear, unsurprisingly; no doubt she didn’t know what there was to say to him, at that moment. He was worried, and he couldn’t be comforted, not even by his motherly AI. 

“So,” Steve said after about twenty minutes of silence. “We have a way to pass the time, if you’re up for it.”

“Oddly, I’m not,” Peter said. He hated that he was being bruque, but really, he needed to concentrate. If Cheri and Stone weren’t at the mansion, or any of the other places that everyone had gone to search, who knew what the next step would be? Their twenty four hour time limit given to Tony by Stone was steadily ticking down, wasted away by things like two hour long car rides. 

“I get it,” Steve said, quietly, “but it might help to know.”

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, blocking his view of his HUD and the road in front of them. He hated reliving the events that had led to his Spider-Man abilities, but Steve did have a point. It _ could _ be useful, in the case of them meeting a full contingent of Horizon scientists who knew exactly what he could do. 

“All right,” he said, and he exhaled. “When I was fifteen, one of my classes took a field trip to Horizon Labs. We were going on a tour of the facility, just to see what a real lab where, like, real scientific tests were being conducted looked like, and maybe get us excited for our futures in labs of our own, I dunno. 

“Anyway, uh, I sort of… wandered off, by myself, and ended up in a kind of secluded part of the lab, since I was avoiding adults at all costs.” He hesitated a moment; this was only the second time he’d told this whole story aloud before. “Before I was… like this, I was actually a really clumsy kid, so it probably wasn’t such a good idea for me to go off on my own in a lab filled with potentially dangerous experiments? But uh, my common sense was lacking, too, so.

“The room I ended up in was dark, right? And I was blind, too, even _ with _ glasses, and so I ended up tripping over something and knocking into a table. A glass cage fell off of it, and broke open, and then I… y’know, I felt something _ bite _ me. And I realized it was a spider, but I didn’t really think too much of it, just put the cage back on the table and ran out of there, because I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

Steve adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “When did the effects start to kick in?” 

“Pretty much immediately,” Peter admitted. “I started to sneeze, so much, and I was actually sent out of the lab to wait on the bus for everyone else to get done with the tour. The rest of the day was kind of a blur; they called May, when we got back to the school, and had her take me home, even though there was still, like, two hours of school left. Once I got home, I fell asleep, and when I woke up twelve hours later, I… didn’t have to put my glasses on to be able to see. And I didn’t trip over anything when I walked down the hall to the bathroom, which was pretty much a given every single day.” He paused. “And I also had abs. Which was new. And… unexpected. It didn’t take long to realize that the spider had probably had something to do with it all, considering I could also stick to walls.”

Steve smiled a little. “And you decided not to waste the capabilities you’d suddenly found yourself with, right?” he asked, and Peter nodded. 

“Three months later, Mr. Stark showed up at my apartment, inviting me to Germany.” He let out a breath. “I don’t - I don’t know. I had to go back to to Horizon, like, a month in, in order to deal with the issue of even more of those spiders getting free down a drain or something. That’s when I realized that I could really… help people, doing what I suddenly could do.” 

“A lot of kids probably would’ve decided to do things for themselves instead, so… it’s admirable that you decided to help others,” Steve told him, and Peter lifted his shoulders. 

“There was no choice on that, for me,” he said, quietly. “My uncle and aunt were kind of the basis for that, taking me in the way they did. And then Mr. Stark, too, with what he’d been doing as Iron Man.” He smiled a bit, surprised that he could. “I’d wanted to be just like him for such a long time.”

There was a moment of silence, during which Peter’s smile faded. He turned his head, his HUD now displaying what was passing by them on the side of the road instead of what was ahead. “I don’t know,” he admitted, quietly. “Maybe… if Horizon wants to… take away my powers, then maybe I should let them.”

“Wait, what?” Steve asked, blinking over at him. “Where’d this come from?” 

Peter lifted his shoulders. “I don’t know, Cap,” he said. “I’ve… I used to be completely ready to, like, lead the next generation of superheroes into the fray, once you and Tony and, like, Dr. Banner, I guess, decided that it was time to retire, but… for a little while now, I’ve been wondering what… what it’d be like, to just be a normal guy.” He swallowed. “I still want to be able to help people, but I can do that in others ways, you know? Like… I don’t have to be Spider-Man to save the world. And _ being _ Spider-Man sometimes makes my life a lot more complicated than I’d like it to be, considering what I want to do as Peter Parker.” 

“But you _ are _ Spider-Man,” Steve reminded him. “You have been for years.” He glanced at Peter. “Would you willingly decide to go back to being who you were before?” 

“That’s the thing, though,” Peter said. “I don’t think I ever really _ changed. _ Physically, yeah, obviously, but… I’m still the same guy I was before the spider bit me. I was just… given the chance early on to help people, with superhero capabilities rather than with, like, my plans for prosthetics.” He shrugged. “I know that Spider-Man is a big part of, like, why I was able to really solidify my belief that when you have the chance to help people who need it, you should, but… honestly? I think I would’ve been able to do that anyway. It just… it just would have been in a different way, and would’ve taken a lot longer to actually do.”

Steve did not speak for several moments after that. Peter stayed quiet himself, finding that he’d run out of things to say on his end. He knew what the implications were, of letting Horizon strip him of his abilities, but would that really be so bad? He’d be normal again, wouldn’t have any sort of, like, outside pressures that kept him from doing the things he really wanted to be able to focus on. New York would miss Spider-Man, for sure, and he’d miss being able to stop bad guys, but… well. Spider-Man had stopped being his priority awhile ago; that much was obvious by how little time he’d spent on the streets at night, recently. He almost felt as though New York didn’t _ need _ Spider-Man as much as it might have, once. 

Still, Spider-Man’s brand has always been taking care of petty street crimes, right? Helping the little guy with, like, home invaders, and stopping bank robberies, so that the general public wouldn’t be harmed by a loss of all that money. Spider-Man was a neighborhood superhero; what would become of the neighborhood if its hero wasn’t around anymore? Could he, in good conscious, allow that to happen, knowing the panic it would probably invite to the streets of New York? 

Peter didn’t know. He _ didn’t _ know, and he wasn’t sure if that was a decision he could force himself to make within the next twelve hours, if it came down to it. 

Steve sighed from behind the wheel, and Peter glanced over at him. “This isn’t really a decision that anyone can help you make,” he said, carefully, as though he were thinking through the words, first. “But… I don’t know if you’ve really considered it. Considered everything that would come with it. Besides that, we’re not even sure if that’s what Horizon _ wants _ with you.” He shook his head. “It… if you really were serious about not having your powers anymore, I’m sure Bruce and Tony would be able to figure that out, but that’s definitely a conversation to have with them after all this. For right now, I think we need to be focused on rescuing Cheri, and keeping you safe, too, because we have no clue what would happen if you were to end up in their hands.”

Peter thought this over. Steve was right. Whatever Horizon wanted him back for would no doubt not be in his favor, even if he _ did _ want his powers gone, which he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of. On top of that, who knew if they’d let him go? Maybe they’d keep him, force him to be their guinea pig, to test out effects of who knows what on a person with his abilities.

No. He had to stay away from them, which meant that they’d need to get Cheri back without him handing himself willingly over to Stone. Which was something they could do, he was sure. 

“Right,” he finally said, and Steve looked briefly over at him again. Peter nodded. “You’re right. This shouldn’t be about whatever I might want to do in terms of Spider-Man in the future, because Horizon is dangerous, and I need to stay away from them.” 

“Exactly,” Steve agreed, sounding relieved that Peter understood what he’d been trying to say. “Good. We’ll get Cheri back, and then keep the two of you safe from both Stone and Horizon, in whatever way we need to. Okay?” 

Peter nodded again, and Steve’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay,” he repeated, more to himself, before returning his complete attention to the road. Peter looked out the window again with a small sigh. He needed to push all thoughts aside from how to rescue Cheri out of his mind. That needed to be his focus, until she was back with him, and they knew they were safe from the threat of Stone, and Horizon Labs. 

And then, _ maybe, _ he could think more about the idea of… not being Spider-Man anymore. If that was something he really wanted. Which he wasn’t even sure of. Because when it came down to it, Steve was right. Peter _ was _ Spider-Man. Being a superhero was part of who he was, intrinsically. He didn’t know if he could… decide to not be a superhero, if given the opportunity. It might be what’s best for _ him, _ for his future goals, but then again, was it? 

_ Fuck, stop thinking about it, _ he told himself. _ Focus on Cheri, and getting her back. She’s the priority right now. Her, and staying the hell out of reach of Horizon. _

Because, after talking to Steve, he knew one thing for sure, and that was that Horizon Labs was _ not _ a friend to Spider-Man, and by extension, not a friend to Peter Parker, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Peter’s origin story, at this point, is pretty well-known, but this is the spin I’m taking in terms of Earth-293256 Peter, and thus MCU Peter.   
Hopefully it isn’t too far fetched


	90. Stark & Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what's going on. Like, each chapter is getting a fair number of hits, but I haven't gotten a new kudos is a while. Is anybody new out there??

**February 19th, 2024 - Just Over Galway, NY, USA - 6:38 PM**

“All right, FRI, how far out am I from the mansion?” Tony prompted his AI, navigating over the small upstate New York city. He wasn’t even sure the place could be called a _ city; _ from what he’d looked up during his flight, the population had only barely crested 3,000 back in 2000. He imagined it couldn’t have grown much more in the last twenty or so years. 

“About five minutes,” FRIDAY told him. 

“Good,” Tony said. “Is there any indication that Stone might have taken Cheri there?” 

“Not that I can tell, yet,” FRIDAY replied. “Maybe once we’re closer?”

“Keep me posted,” Tony said. “Security system, whatever.” 

“Got it.”

He refocused on his flying, which he would have had the suit do automatically, but he didn’t exactly know what they were flying into, and he wanted to be able to land immediately if necessary. He considered trying Stephen again, but then thought better of it; if he hadn’t answered when Tony had called him the first time, as soon as he’d known that Cheri had been taken, he doubted that he’d answer now. Tony probably just needed to wait for Stephen to call _ him _ back, if he was being honest. Who knew what the wizards were getting up to? 

Still, this whole mess would have been a lot less stressful if Stephen had been able to do his magic locating thing. 

True to FRIDAY’s word, he came within view of the familiar sight of the Stone mansion about five minutes later. It was a large building built from a combination of stone and logs, giving the whole thing a sort of cabin-y look that Tony wasn’t so sure about. No wonder Stone hadn’t spent much time there, after graduating from high school. It was kind of ugly. 

But it was far away from Galway, and no doubt just the sort of isolated place that Stone would’ve taken Cheri, if he’d wanted to go off the grid for the next twenty-four hours while Tony was supposedly making up his mind. He just hoped that Stone hadn’t changed his, about keeping her out of harm’s way during those hours. 

“FRIDAY?” 

“I am picking up signals from a security system,” his AI said.

“So it’s active.” Tony exhaled. “That means _ someone’s _ there.”

“Yes,” FRIDAY said. “I also pulled a picture captured by a security camera in Galway at about 5:15 PM.” The image appeared on his HUD. “That’s Cheri’s license plate, right?” 

“Yep,” Tony replied. “Nice one, kiddo. Didn’t even think of checking security camera footage. Chances are about 85% that they’re at the mansion, then.” 

“Closer to 90%, actually,” FRIDAY corrected. 

“Yeah, whatever. The numbers are on our side, is what matters.”

He landed the suit about fifty yards out from the gated driveway, which put him about a football field’s length away from the mansion itself. Since it was dark outside, he could see lights on in the mansion, both upstairs and down. The driveway was well-lit, too, and he had no doubt that there were cameras up and down the entire thing, ready to view whatever came up it from all angles. 

Stealth was going to be an issue. 

“Shit,” he commented, idly. “FRIDAY, could you get us patched into the cameras around the mansion? Quietly?” 

“Give me a second,” she replied, and Tony did so. After a moment, a series of camera views appeared on his HUD, all the imagery black-and-white, but clearly of the landscape surrounding the mansion. He had five cameras on the front of the house, five on the back, and two on either side. All of them were vacant of any sort of human, which was fine. 

He examined the cameras for a moment. “I think that the smartest approach would be to get to the mansion coming from the left or right,” he finally said. “I can take out those cameras pretty easily. If Stone, or someone, is watching them from inside, we don’t want to alert them to seeing more than one camera go off at a time. One or two is a system malfunction. A group of five, like the ones in the front and backyards, is an ambush.” 

“I can manually take them out from here,” FRIDAY said. “Just say the word.”

Tony eyed the cameras for a moment longer. He just wished he knew which part of the house Cheri was most likely to be in. Knowing would give him a better idea of which side to go in on. 

This was a waste of time. 

“All right, fuck it,” he said, and he tapped the arc reactor. The suit disappeared into it, and he slid his glasses on instead. Squaring his shoulders, he started towards the gate.

“Boss?” FRIDAY asked quizzically from the speakers built into his glasses. She also managed to sound just the tiniest bit concerned. “What’s -?”

“I’m going to talk to him, face to face,” Tony replied, not taking his eyes off the gate. “We’re both adults; I’m sure there’s some sort of agreement we can come to. And if not, I’ll incapacitate him.”

There was a moment of silence. “Just like that?” FRIDAY questioned. 

“Just like that,” Tony replied. He was tired of this shit.

He paused next to the voice box outside of the gate. There was a camera built into it, and he leaned towards it, waiting. 

After a moment, the speaker beneath the camera crackled. “Well, this is a surprise,” Stone’s voice said, sounding pleasant. “I’m amazed you remembered this place.”

“I’ve come to talk,” Tony said, crossing his arms. “You gonna let me in, or leave me out here in the cold all night?” 

“You’re alone?” Stone asked, and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“What does it look like?”

After a moment, he heard the gate unlock, and then it swung slowly inwards. Tony passed through it, and made the next fifty yard trek up to the front door of the mansion. He didn’t have to knock, the door was already opening as he walked up to it. 

Cheri was the one to have opened it. She looked a little dazed, but her eyes brightened when she recognized him. “Mr. Stark,” she said, softly, sounding the tiniest bit amazed. Tony picked up his pace, wanting to reach her, grab her, and then zip out of there before Stone could even come to the door. 

Cheri was cut from his view, however, when Stone stepped in front of her, pushing her backwards away from the door. He smiled at Tony, who slowed down, and did his best not to reach out and strangle Stone immediately. 

“Welcome!” Stone said, cheerfully. “I would’ve prepared dinner, if I’d known we’d have you as a guest this evening.” 

“I’m only here to talk,” Tony reminded him. “This isn’t meant to be a visit. We’re going to figure out our shit, and then you’re going to let me leave with Cheri.” 

Stone’s smile softened a little. There was something less friendly to it, now. “We’ll have to see,” he said, and then he stepped out of the way of the door. “Come on in.”

Tony stepped through, and listened as the door closed and locked behind him. Cheri was still behind Stone when he turned back to them after gazing around the foyer, and she looked horrified, now, as though realizing what the implication of him being there was. She must’ve expected something more grand, like the entire Avengers team arriving to storm the place. If only he could tell her that backup was on the way, just maybe not to the extent that she’d imagined, and probably not the people she’d hoped for. At least, one of them. 

Stone glanced between the two of them for a moment, before rolling his eyes a bit, and stepping out of Cheri’s way. “Go on, then,” he invited, gesturing towards Tony. “Don’t be shy.”

Cheri hurried across the space between them and clung to Tony’s waist like an octopus, her face buried into his chest. Tony hugged her back. He was relieved that she was _ okay, _ if nothing else. And clearly, Stone hadn’t managed to brainwash her just yet. That, or he had yet to try. Tony couldn’t imagine that he’d wasted anytime, though. 

“It’s okay,” Tony assured her, softly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“All right, I think that’s enough,” Stone said, and he tugged Cheri back over to where he stood by grabbing the back of her shirt and pulling her away from Tony again. Tony scowled at him, sliding his hands into his pockets, and he gripped the extra communication device that was in the right one. 

Stone squeezed Cheri’s shoulders. “Darling, why don’t you go upstairs to your room?” 

“What? Why?” Cheri asked, frowning.

“Don’t argue,” Stone said, lightly, but there was a warning glint in his eyes. Tony wanted to sock him. “Go. The adults need to have a talk.”

Cheri looked at Tony, clearly distraught, but all the same started for the stairs on the right side of the foyer. As she passed by him, Tony reached out and took her hand for the briefest moment, slipping what he was holding into hers. 

Cheri was smart enough not to react, and she continued up the stairs. Stone watched her go, head tilted, until she was no longer in view, and then he looked at Tony. “Shall we?” he prompted, gesturing to the open doors just off the front door. Tony headed into the office on the other side. Stone followed him, closing the glass doors about halfway, and then he walked around the desk to the large chair behind it. He sat down there, sighing a little, and said, “Being a father’s not the easiest thing I’ve ever done, let me tell you. She’s very spirited.”

Tony did not encourage this line of conversation. Instead, he picked a topic that was much more relevant to him: “What do I need to say for you to let me walk out of here with her?” 

Stone smiled, folding his hands over his chest. “I’m not stopping you from going upstairs to get her,” he said, dryly. There might’ve been a bit of bitterness, too. “But just know that Cheri and I already have an agreement of our own in place, so… she may think of that, before letting you take her out of the mansion.”

“What kind of agreement?” Tony asked, but his stomach was twisting uncomfortably in a way that indicated he already knew.

Stone shrugged. “Something similar to what you and I discussed earlier today,” he said. “Pertaining to her, in exchange for Peter’s safety from Horizon. Not that she needs to know that Horizon has no need for me to secure the boy; they’re more than capable of doing so themselves. They just hoped that I would alleviate some of the harder steps.”

Tony sincerely hoped that his glasses were transmitting to the communication device he’d given Cheri, and that she’d immediately put the thing in her ear, so that she was hearing all of this. “Does she know what they want him for?” he asked. 

“I imagine she’s taken some guesses,” Stone said with a shrug. “She hasn’t been the most talkative, since she woke up about an hour ago.” 

“Did you expect her to be?” Tony demanded, resting his hands on the edge of the desk. “Do you know what kind of damage you might’ve done to her? A skull fracture she got maybe three weeks ago _ just _ finished healing. You could’ve given her brain damage, or worse!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Stone said, frowning. “She’s tough, and she’s clearly fine.” 

_ “Fine?” _ Tony exclaimed. “You kidnapped her, and have threatened her boyfriend’s life in order to get her to comply, and you think that she’s _ fine?” _

“Stop yelling, it is not a good look on you,” Stone told him. “Considering that she managed to trap me in the cellar for about three minutes earlier, I have to say that she’s _ fine. _” 

“She’s _ surviving,” _ Tony retorted, pushing back from the desk. “She doesn’t want to _ be _ here. She doesn’t want to be around _ you.” _

“Even if she doesn’t,” Stone said, “she cares enough about Peter that she’s convinced herself that she could live with me, in order to protect him.”

“But it doesn’t matter, since you know Horizon will go after him anyway,” Tony clarified, and Stone shrugged. 

“That won’t be my problem, once I’ve moved us to California. She’ll forget about him soon enough.” 

“Yeah, right, you go ahead and keep telling yourself that,” Tony said, crossing one leg over the other to hide his discomfort with this whole conversation. 

Stone glared at him for a long moment. “You know, this could have all been avoided if you’d simply spoken to me after I went through all that trouble to get your attention last September,” he said at last, and Tony frowned. 

“So, you _ were _ responsible for the break-in at the Tower.”

“Obviously.” Stone rolled his eyes. “I only wanted to speak with you. Perhaps we could have done this like civilized adults, and not involved Cheri at all.” 

“You know that she was always going to be involved,” Tony said, sharply. “Peter is her boyfriend. She loves him.” Stone merely scoffed in response to this, and Tony tilted his head.“Have you never felt any sort of compassion? For anyone?” he asked.

Stone’s eyes narrowed. “You know that I loved you.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Tony said, scoffing. “Whatever it was that we had was _not_ love. It was a competitive, hateful relationship that involved sex more often than I’d like to remember. We were never actually friends, Ty, and we definitely were never in love. It took me a while to realize that.”

There was a tense moment of silence, and then Stone leaned forward over his desk a bit. “What are you doing here, Tony?” he asked. 

“I’m here to get Cheri away from you, and to tell you that if you come near her again, you’re dead,” Tony responded, evenly. “And if you, or Horizon_, _ come near _ Peter, _ you’re dead.” 

“We’ve been over this, Tony,” Stone told him. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s one or the other. And Horizon has no qualms about coming after Peter without me in the mix. So, you can do what you like, to get Cheri out of here, and to keep Peter safe, but in the end, I think we both know that he’s always going to be in danger, and by extension, so will Cheri.”

“Then what can I say to you, that will convince you to tell them to back the hell off?” Tony demanded. “He hasn’t done anything bad with his abilities, and he hasn’t told anyone where they came from, either. I didn’t even know Horizon was involved until a month ago, for God’s sake. He’s kept it quiet. Why do they suddenly want him out of the picture?”

“Tony, they don’t want him out of the picture,” Stone said, patiently. “They want to make _ more _ of him.”


	91. Out a Window and Over a Fence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri makes her escape.

**February 19th, 2024 - Stone Mansion - Near Galway, NY, USA - 6:49 PM**

Cheri swallowed thickly, but forced herself to leave the communication device where it was in her ear. So, Horizon Labs didn’t want to eradicate Spider-Man; they wanted to produce more people with the same capabilities, and intended to use Peter’s DNA or whatever as the base to do so. 

_ Fuck. _

_ “You’re kidding,” _ Tony said, voice coming loud and clear through the communication device, as did Stone's responding chuckle. 

_ “Of course not. Can you imagine how many people would be glad to have the same abilities as Spider-Man, and how many would be willing to do tasks for the people who gave them those abilities? And since we’ve managed to produce the technology that helps to control them, we don’t need to worry about things getting out of hand.” _

_ “There can’t be more than one Spider-Man,” _Tony said. 

_ “Well, no, obviously,” _ Stone said, _ “but we have to imagine that by the time Horizon is done with him, Peter will be a little less inclined to swing around the city and stop crime. And anyway, Spider-Man probably won’t even need to be a thing anymore. We’ll have established a new type of _ human. _ Can you imagine?” _

Cheri could, and she didn’t much care for the idea. Spider-Man made Peter who he was. If everyone suddenly possessed all the same abilities as he did, he wouldn’t be _ the _ Spider-Man anymore. He wouldn’t be alone in what he could do. And that would suck. 

She blew out a breath of air, and glanced towards the window of the room that had clearly been made up to be a bedroom for her. Now that she knew that her staying with Stone was doing nothing to protect Peter, she had no qualms with trying to climb out of it to freedom. The windows couldn’t be connected to the security alarm, could they? 

But once she was on the ground, if she even _ got _ to the ground, what was she supposed to do? Tony was downstairs, now, and she refused to leave him there alone. She had no way of knowing if others were coming, and really wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’d flown here all on his own to try and bargain his way out of this. 

She reached up and touched the communication device, wondering if Tony would be able to hear her if she spoke into it. Even if he couldn’t respond, she could let him know that she’d been listening, and now knew that she could leave, that doing so wouldn’t put Peter in any extra danger. 

“Mr. Stark, I’m making an assumption that you can hear me,” she began, quietly. “I’m gonna see if I can get out the window, maybe. Is that a good idea?” 

She waited a moment for a response. Tony managed to give her one, through a reply to Stone’s last question. 

_ “Yes,” _ he said, and Cheri started towards the window. _ “I can imagine it, and it’s horrible. I don’t understand why they’d want the possibility of more people who know what they’re doing there behind the scenes running around.” _

_ “That is something Horizon’s been struggling to come to terms with,” _ Stone admitted. _ “There are some on the board that don’t want to risk it coming out, but others think this would be a great for publicity, that it’s time to let the public know that we want to enhance the human race.” _

“Fucking morons,” Cheri muttered to herself, pushing back the curtains. The window was unlocked, and she slid it up, finding that it only opened about halfway. She thought she’d be able to squeeze herself through, but she didn’t know how safe it would be to drop to the ground from there. She needed a rope of some kind.

She turned to face the room again, and focused on the bed. She’d seen enough movies to know that a rope made of blankets didn’t usually turn out so well, but she didn’t see any other choice. 

Then, her eyes landed on the canopy over the bed, which was made of a significantly thicker fabric. The corner of her mouth raised in a smirk. She reached up to silence the communicator, so that she wouldn’t be distracted, and set to work. 

Downstairs, Tony heard the communicator shut off via his glasses, and he focused once more on Stone. 

“What if I could… make you a deal that’s… that’s bigger than Peter?” he asked. “One that Horizon Labs wouldn’t refuse?”

Stone cocked an eyebrow. “Doubtful,” he said, but then he folded his hands on top of his desk, and leaned across it towards Tony. “But what did you have in mind?” 

**Stone Mansion - Near Galway, NY, USA - 7:15 PM**

“Well, we kind of kicked ass on that drive,” Steve commented, to help levy the heaviness of the situation. Peter didn’t acknowledge it, too busy reading through the message he’d gotten from Tony maybe forty-five minutes ago, stating that Stone and Cheri were at the mansion, and that Tony had gone in alone to speak with Stone. Apparently, too, Cheri was currently in the process of trying to climb out a window.

Peter sighed a bit to himself, and set his phone down in the cup holder of the Audi, pulling his mask back down. He wouldn’t be needing it; already, the communication device in his mask was picking up Tony’s voice as he continued what was no doubt a pointless bargaining session with Stone. 

“All right,” he began, climbing from the Audi, which Steve had parked a fair distance away from the mansion. “Tony said that Cheri’s climbing out a window. I’d guess it’s probably smartest for us to go secure her, and then he’ll get out of there without alerting Stone to the fact that Cheri’s gone.” He paused, and then shrugged. “I don’t know how he plans to do that, but he’s dramatic, so I’m sure he’ll be able to figure it out.”

Steve nodded, sliding out of the car as well. “Do we know where Cheri’s coming from?” 

“Nope,” Peter answered, eyeing the mansion. He could see no movement. “Since Tony has Stone distracted, though, we don’t need to worry about the cameras. He already had FRIDAY cut them off, too, in case there’s some sort of alert built into them that goes up as soon as they spot movement.”

“Good,” Steve said. “We ready, then?”

“I think we’ll need to go around both sides of the house,” Peter said. “One of us should run into Cheri, that way.”

“Got it,” Steve responded. “I’ll go left?” 

“Sounds goods,” Peter said, and they both jogged towards the mansion, splitting at the edge of the fence connected to the large gate that led up the driveway, which they’d avoided on purpose. Steve climbed the fence; Peter didn’t bother, instead shooting a web at the highest point on the mansion and following it to the wall. The plan was to then cling to the wall and glance around, but instead, he fell to the ground, landing on his back. 

Peter groaned, weakly, and pushed himself up onto his elbows, blinking. _Repulsors. Right. _

He managed to climb to his feet, using the side of the house, and glanced around. So much for getting an aerial view, he supposed. 

He was about to round the house to the backyard itself when a fist collided with his face. He groaned, again, reaching up to cup his nose through his mask, and heard a familiar voice gasp out, before there were hands on his. 

“Fuck, sorry, sorry!” Cheri hissed, sounding worried. “I didn’t know it was you!” 

Peter shook his head, feeling more dazed than anything, and focused on her. She looked okay, but he could see how exhausted she was, not to mention the fabric she had wrapped around one of her hands, which looked to have been torn from her shirt, and was soaked through with blood. He lifted his mask up so that she could see his face, and Cheri immediately wrapped her arms around him in a hug, breathing outwards shakily. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to him, face pressed to his shoulder. 

Peter held her off the ground, eyes closed, breathing in the smell of her hair. “Don’t apologize,” he murmured. “Please. I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Cheri said. She turned her head until she could kiss him, and then returned her face to his shoulder, clearly not wanting to let him go just yet. Peter needed to see her face, however. He set her down on the ground again, then reached up to touch her chin with his finger, drawing back slightly. 

“I was so scared. I’d thought I’d lost you,” he whispered. 

Cheri quickly shook her head, covering his hands with hers. “Never, okay? I’m here.” 

He breathed outwards in relief, and tilted her head forward so that he could kiss the top of it. He then held her close again. Cheri gripped onto his suit. 

“Fuck, though, I _ was _ ready to stay here, so that he wouldn’t go after you for Horizon, but then he told Tony that Horizon’s still going to come after you, if Stone can’t get you for them, and they want to use you to create more people like you!” she said. 

Peter furrowed his brow, trying to process all this information as she threw it at him. He loosened his hold around her, and frowned when she met his gaze. “What?” he asked, and Cheri shook her head. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It… from what it sounds like, they want to… reproduce your DNA or something, and then give more people your powers.” She blinked at him, her hands gripping his shoulders very tightly. “We’re not going to let that happen, though, okay?”

“I don’t… why would they need me to do that, though?” Peter asked, mostly speaking to himself, because he knew that Cheri didn’t have the answer. “I just - they made the spider that did this to me. I don’t know why they couldn’t just make more of them.”

“Maybe it’s too dangerous on a wider scale to do it that way?” Cheri guessed. “It was radioactive, right? So maybe they’re worried about scientists getting sick or something, I don’t know. The point is, they want you to make more people like you, which means we definitely need to keep you away from them.”

_ It means that I definitely need to get rid of my powers, _ Peter thought, privately. He then shook his head a little to clear it, and slid his hands up to cup her face again. Glancing between her eyes, he asked, gently, “Are you okay?” Cheri breathed outwards, and Peter rested his forehead against hers. “Talk to me,” he insisted. “Is your head okay? What happened to your hand?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I have a headache, but I've _ had _a headache for weeks, now. Earlier, when I managed to call my mom, I trapped Stone in the cellar. I broke the light bulb down there with my hand, and cut it a little. I’m okay, though.”

Peter gazed at her for another moment, before he sighed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead instead, more relieved than he could say. He then took her uninjured hand in his. “Come on,” he said, quietly. “We need to get out of here.”

“But Tony’s still in there,” Cheri said, staying put even when Peter tried to pull her towards the fence. Peter looked back at her, and saw she was frowning at him. Her look was one he knew too well; it said that she wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Cher, he can take care of himself,” Peter said. “Right now, it’s my job to get you away from here without letting Stone know that you’re gone.”

“But -”

“Cheri, please, for once in our relationship, don’t argue with me,” Peter begged.

Steve jogged up then, and he let out a breath of relief when he saw Cheri. “Thank God,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No, I’m not - what about Tony?” Cheri said, hotly. 

“He has a plan,” Steve assured her. Cheri glanced at him, and he nodded. “He does, promise. Let’s get going; we’ll meet him back at the Compound.”

Cheri looked again at Peter, who did his best to look as sincere as Steve had sounded. “Please, Cher.”

She let out a small sigh, but nodded, and followed Peter to the fence. She needed help climbing over it, indicating that her head injury, and the injury on her hand, were giving her trouble, but they made it over with little struggle. Peter then scooped her up, and he and Steve jogged towards where the Audi waited. Peter knew Cheri was gazing over his shoulder, watching the mansion the whole time, and was growing more and more concerned with each second that passed that she did not see Tony fly through the roof, or exit through the front door like a normal person. 

Peter had to admit his own worry, but he didn’t let himself linger on it as he helped Cheri climb into the Audi behind his seat, and then righted it again so that he could sit down. Steve started the engine, and they drove away from the mansion again, going south. Peter glanced once back at the mansion, frowning a little, and willed Tony to make an appearance. He didn’t, and a sick feeling in his stomach told him that this whole mess was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's wild to me that I only have seven chapters left to post after this one.


	92. An Additive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final snippet of conversation between Tony and Ty.

**February 19th, 2024 - Stone Mansion - Near Galway, NY, USA - 7:28 PM**

Stone watched the screen in front of him until Cheri, Peter, and Steve were no longer in frame, and then he shook his head a bit and turned back to Tony, who was studying the floor between his feet. 

“It’s impressive to see,” Stone commented, and Tony glanced up at him. Stone waved his hand. “You, caring for someone as much as you clearly care for the two of them. What’s it like?” 

“I couldn’t explain it to you,” Tony said, quietly, looking down again. “You’d never get it. I don’t think you’re built to.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Stone cleared his throat. “Well, then,” he said. “I suggest we eat some dinner, and then head to bed early. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” He grinned at Tony, maliciously. “On behalf of Horizon Labs, Mr. Stark, thank you. We’re glad to do business with you.”

Tony did not respond. After a long moment, Stone leaned across the desk towards him. "You truly never felt anything for me?" he asked, softly, almost pleading, and Tony met his gaze. 

"No," he lied. "No, I didn't."

Stone stared at him for a few seconds longer, before he stood. 

"Well," he said. "Guess that's that, then."

Tony closed his eyes, listening as Stone walked past him out of the office, and then he buried his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I post the next chapter today, too, since this one's so short?  
...  
Yeah, I think so.


	93. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paging Dr. Strange... Iron Man is in trouble.

**February 20th, 2024 - New Avengers Compound - Somewhere in Upstate, NY, USA - 8:45 AM**

Cheri wandered out of Peter’s suite after finding the space next to her in bed empty. She wasn’t surprised to find Peter in the kitchen, gazing down into a cup of coffee, his brow furrowed. He glanced up as she entered the room, and tried to force a smile, but failed. He looked back down again. 

“He never came back?” Cheri guessed, quietly, and Peter closed his eyes, before shaking his head a little. Cheri’s swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat, and walked over to where he sat at the island, sliding her arms around him and resting her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get him back.”

“What if he doesn’t want us to?” Peter asked, softly, a thick, emotional quality to his voice that made Cheri’s heart wrench. “What if he made a deal with Stone that keeps me and you safe, but gave himself up in exchange?” 

“You think he wouldn’t want us messing that up,” Cheri said. 

“I know he wouldn’t,” Peter replied. He sniffled. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to.” 

“What do you think the deal was?” Cheri asked, and Peter shook his head. 

“It could’ve been a number of things,” he said. “He agreed to work for Horizon, agreed to do business with them, maybe give them blueprints and stuff for S.I. tech. Maybe even for the suits.”

“He wouldn’t,” Cheri said, and Peter glanced at her as she drew backwards. 

“To keep them from coming after me? And to keep you from having to live with Stone?” Cheri did not reply, and Peter looked down at his coffee again. “Mr. Stark’s a lot of things, but… he’s protective of the people he cares for, first and foremost, and he’ll do anything he can to keep them safe.” 

“Peter, we can’t let him do this,” Cheri said, and Peter lifted his shoulders. 

“What are we supposed to do?” 

“Find him!” Cheri exclaimed. “And stop him before he does something he’ll regret. There are other ways of dealing with this; Tony did the thing he thought would work in the moment, but… it was probably the worst decision in the long run. We have to stop it, whatever _ it _ is.” 

“How?” Peter asked her. 

Cheri gazed at him for a moment, before lifting her gaze. “FRIDAY?” 

“Yes?” The AI sounded tired, which should have amazed Peter, but really, it wasn’t a surprise. Tony’s glasses and suit had been offline for close to twelve hours; she had to be worried about him, just like he was. 

“Could you try to get in touch with Dr. Strange for us?” Cheri asked, and Peter looked at his girlfriend again, frowning. 

“What could he do?” he asked, not wanting to bring the Master of the Mystic Arts into it. He had no idea what was going on with Tony’s relationship with Strange, and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out. 

“Well, for one thing, he might be able to get us to wherever Tony is. Maybe we’ll be able to catch him alone,” Cheri said. 

“Cheri, that is not a plan,” Peter sighed, covering his face with his hands. “It’s barely an idea.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Cheri demanded, frowning at him. “I’m not going to let him sell his tech in order to keep my sperm donor from coming after me again, or to keep some shitty scientists from trying to be, like, Black Ops operatives to come after you!” She glanced up again. “FRI?” 

“Dr. Strange hasn’t been available for the last fifteen hours,” FRIDAY said. “Mr. Stark said that I wasn’t supposed to try to contact him again, after Boss’s second attempt, and that the doctor would get in touch, first, when he was able to.”

“Fuck that,” Cheri said, hotly. “We need his help.”

“I’m sorry, Cheri,” FRIDAY said, and she really did sound sorry. “I can’t go against direct orders from Mr. Stark without the override.”

Cheri closed her eyes for a moment. “Override,” she muttered, and then she turned a scowl towards Peter. “What the fuck could _ that _ possibly be?” 

Peter did not respond at first, trying to think through the idea of stopping Tony before he did the very rash thing of giving away his tech in order to keep himself and Cheri safe. If they were to go to him, somehow, and they _ did _ catch him in a moment where he was alone, how they hell were they supposed to convince him? He was stubborn, would refuse to listen, would do what he thought needed to be done right then in order to protect them. 

But that was crap. Peter had thought that Tony had learned a long time ago that not everything depended on his decisions. There were people that would help them figure it out, whatever it was they decided to do. To bring down Horizon, to destroy Stone’s company, thus eradicating all the resources that would give him the power to go after Cheri again at some point in the future. They could _ fix this, _ working together. Tony did not have to do it alone. 

Peter looked up. 

“I know the override,” he said aloud, and Cheri looked at him again, wide eyed. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “FRIDAY? Mr. Stark’s override password is ‘Morgan’.”

There was a moment of silence, and then FRIDAY said, in a more robotic tone, “All systems have been reset. Direct orders have been removed.” 

“Fuck yes,” Cheri breathed, and she said, “FRIDAY, get in touch with Dr. Strange, please.”

“Dialing Dr. Strange,” FRIDAY said, and Cheri turned bright eyes towards Peter, who grinned back. 

The dialing tone sounded throughout the kitchen, and then the line rang three times. Peter’s smile started to fade, worry setting in that Strange wouldn’t pick up. 

But he did. Of course he did. Tony was calling. 

“Tony? I’m sorry I missed you yesterday, we were busy,” he started.

“Doctor Strange, it isn’t Tony, it’s Cheri and Peter,” Cheri said. “We need your help, though. Tony’s… Tony’s in trouble.”

There was a moment of silence. When he finally spoke, there was a quality of concern in Strange’s voice that Peter was surprised to realize sounded genuine. “What kind of trouble? Where are you?”

Cheri told him, and a moment later, Strange was standing in the second floor Compound kitchen, frowning as he listened to Cheri recount the events of the last twenty-four hours. Peter put things in where he knew more than Cheri. When the whole story had been told, Strange let out a breath. 

“We need to stop him,” he said. 

“Exactly,” Cheri agreed. Her heart was accelerating; Peter could hear it. “Can you get us to him?” 

“Yes,” Strange said. “Even if it isn’t the safest choice to create a portal to wherever he is, I can at least figure out where that is, and we can go from there. I just need some of his DNA.”

“He probably has a comb or something upstairs in his suite,” Peter said, standing and jogging for the elevator. He was aware of the other two following after him. The elevator opened on the second floor; Steve was inside of it, frowning down at the floor. He glanced up, and blinked at all three of them. 

“What’s -?”

“We’re going to find Tony,” Cheri explained. 

“Oh,” Steve said, and then he pressed back against the elevator wall to create more space. “Let’s go, then.”

They took the elevator up to the fourth floor, and then headed down the hall to Tony’s suite. They very quickly found a hair brush that Stephen plucked a piece of hair from, and used it to create a portal or something that he could use to see where Tony was. He frowned to himself halfway through the process, and Peter frowned, too. 

“What?” he asked, and Stephen glanced at him. 

“I believe he’s in a car,” he said. “With someone else. Most likely, it’s Stone, from what you’ve told me. I have to imagine they’re driving to Horizon Labs.”

“Then that’s where we need to go, to stop them,” Cheri concluded. She looked at Steve and Peter. “What’s the plan, guys?” 

Steve looked at Peter. When Peter gazed back at him, confused, Steve said, “You know the place. How do we do this?” 

Peter breathed outwards, his mind racing. “All right,” he said after a moment, looking at all three of them. “I think I have an idea. But it’s going to be tough.”

“What idea isn’t?” Steve asked, sounding tired, and Peter had to admit he had a point. 

“Okay. Then let’s go get Barnes and Wilson, and Doctor Banner and Nat. We’re going to need the whole team for this one.” He looked at Cheri, who raised an eyebrow. Peter managed a small smile. “The _ whole _ team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love that Steve didn't ask any questions. Once he knew that they were planning to find Tony, he was all in. Love that for their friendship.


	94. Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Ty reach Horizon Labs.

**February 20th, 2024 - Horizon Labs - Sullivan County, NY, USA - 10:24 AM**

Tony examined the wide campus laid out in front of him, frowning a little. It looked innocent enough, but knowing what went on inside, at least sometimes, made him wary to even climb from the car, which Stone sat at the wheel of. Stone himself smiled a bit as he put the vehicle in park. 

“There’s been a bit of an expansion, over the last decade,” he said to Tony. “We’re pretty happy with the way it’s turned out.” 

“I bet,” Tony said, dryly, and forced himself to get out of the car, closing the door behind him. 

In a show of first class resources, Stone had somehow commandeered a nice suit for him before 8 in the morning, which Tony now wore. He didn’t necessarily want to be glad for it, but he was happy to not be wearing the under armor he’d had on the night prior. Still, he wasn’t there to look nice, or even to _ act _ nice; he was just doing something necessary to keep Horizon Labs away from Peter, and Stone away from Cheri. Hopefully, he wouldn’t regret it, even though he knew very well that whatever Horizon did with the blueprints he was about to willingly hand over would not be good. And then there was the possibility that they simply disregarded the deal, and continued to seek Peter out. 

There was no winning in this scenario, but here he was, seeing no alternative. He wanted Peter and Cheri safe, and this solution offered that, however brief it may end up being. 

“Come on,” Stone said, pulling Tony out of his thoughts. He glanced over at Stone, and saw that he was already heading towards the building that he’d parked in front of, clearly ready to get going. “They called the board together just for you. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“Right,” Tony sighed, and started to follow him to the building. The doors opened for them, and Stone sauntered right up to the desk that was positioned in the center of the room. Tony glanced to either side, spotting nothing, really, aside from two sets of doors that led further into the building. No doubt they were inaccessible to anyone who did not work for Horizon, and visitors had to be buzzed in by the person at the desk. 

Who, Tony was amazed to see, was a familiar face. Stone, too, seemed a little surprised to see the person seated there, and he frowned a bit. “You new?” he asked. 

“Yep, just hired yesterday!” Tony frowned at Harry Osborn, who continued to smile at both of them. “Sorry if you’re, like, important or something. They didn’t really give me much, other than to take people’s names and buzz them in if they’re on the list.”

“I’m pretty important, and so’s he,” Stone said, jerking his head towards Tony. “I’d suggest you memorize our faces, kid. Tiberius Stone, and Tony Stark.”

“Sure,” Harry said, unfazed. He started to type on the computer. Just then, Stone’s phone began to ring, and he pulled it out, sighing a little when he saw the number on the screen. 

He answered the call with a curt, “What?” He listened for a moment, and then huffed a little, holding up a finger to Tony and walking away about ten feet. Tony immediately turned towards Harry, who glanced up at him, cringing. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, lowly, so that Stone wouldn’t hear him. 

“Helping Peter and Cheri,” Harry replied. “Whatever you plan on doing here, they really don’t want you to.” 

Stone’s voice rose, and Tony glanced towards him before looking back at Harry again. “What am I walking into?” he asked, and Harry merely shook his head. 

“Just trust them, okay?” 

“Trust -?”

“Sorry about that,” Stone said, cutting Tony off as he walked back over to the desk. “The struggles of owning a business.” He lifted an expectant eyebrow at Harry, who smiled pleasantly back and tapped the computer screen. 

“You’re right here, Mr. Stone, you and Mr. Stark both. For a meeting with the board, even. Guess you _ are _ important.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid,” Stone said, flippantly. “You gonna let us in or not?”

“Right, right, sorry.” Harry fumbled around on the desk for a moment. “Which one… green…?”

“Jesus,” Stone sighed, and he reached over the desk himself. Tony jumped back when someone reached up from beneath the desk and gripped Stone around the neck, tugging him across the desk fully and down to the floor. Tony listened to the sounds of a struggle, Harry pushed back from the desk, and then there was silence. 

“What the fuck?” Tony said, and Harry gestured vaguely. Tony walked around the desk, and peered beneath it. Bucky grinned at him from where he sat tucked down there, his metal arm latched across Stone’s chest, and his hand cupped over his mouth. Stone glared up at Tony, breathing harshly.

“Hey, Stark,” Bucky greeted. “Surprised to see me?” 

“What the hell is going on?” Tony asked, hotly. 

“I’m just doing what I was told,” Bucky answered easily. “I think you have a meeting to get to?” 

“Fucking -” Tony looked between him and Harry for a moment, before closing his eyes, very briefly. This was too much. “Fine. I’ll go along with it, but they’re probably going to be a little confused when I walk in there without Stone.”

“You might not have Stone with you, but they probably won’t be that confused when you walk in there with his daughter instead.” He turned at the new voice, and his shoulders fell when he saw Cheri walking up to the desk, dressed in a suit, looking very much the part of the daughter of a business owner. She scowled at him. “What the fuck were you thinking, making a deal with him like that?” 

“I was thinking that I wanted you and Peter safe,” Tony retorted, crossing his arms. “The fuck were _ you _ thinking, getting involved like this?”

“That you were making a huge mistake!” Cheri snapped back. “So now we have to _ fix _ this, because you made it worse by thinking that you needed to handle it on your own.” She walked around the desk, and crouched down, looking at Stone for a moment, before she switched her gaze to Bucky. “Why is he still conscious?” 

“Oh, sorry.” Bucky used his hand to knock Stone’s skull against his metal arm. Stone went limp, and Cheri nodded, content, before standing up straight again. 

She looked at Tony. “Come on. Follow my lead, and this should be fine. Let us through, Harry.” 

Harry rolled back towards the desk and touched a button. One of the sets of doors opened, and Cheri tugged Tony through it. 

“The whole point of me doing this was so that you wouldn’t have to deal with him or any of his shit ever again,” Tony hissed to her as she led him down the hall on the other side. It was lined up and down with different doors, which, he idly noted, were the offices of the different Horizon scientists. 

“Did you really think it would work?” Cheri muttered back. “Or that something worse wouldn’t come out of it?” 

Well, no, Tony had fully been expecting the apocalypse, once Horizon had his blueprints in hand. But that would’ve been for him to take care of, once it happened. 

He let out a breath. That was exactly what the kids apparently _ didn’t _ want, if this production was anything to go by. 

“What’s the plan, then?” he asked her. 

“Probably better if you don’t know,” she admitted over her shoulder. “Just trust us, okay? We have it figured out.”

Tony did not like the sound of that whatsoever, but he decided to just roll with it. Clearly, the Compound was in on it, and Rogers wouldn’t have let them execute a half-assed plan. And, at the very base of it all, he _ did _trust Peter and Cheri, so. 

Yeah. Maybe it _ was _better if he didn’t know. 

Clearly, there was a map of Horizon online or something, because Cheri seemed to know exactly where she was leading him. This main building of the campus seemed to be an interconnected maze of hallways filled with offices. Tony had to wonder how many scientists worked there, and how many of them would’ve learned about his tech, if he’d gone through with handing it over. 

He decided that he didn’t really want to know, and hopefully, wouldn’t need to know, either. 

Eventually, they reached a set of double doors, and Cheri paused in front of them. She reached up to her ear, and touched a communication device that Tony hadn’t even noticed. It must have been one of the ones that Ned had improved, after working with Princess Shuri in Wakanda. 

“Everyone in position? We’re outside the conference room,” Cheri said, and listened for a moment. She then smiled to herself and said, “Are you doubting my skills as an actor, Queens?”

**10:32 AM**

Peter sighed to himself. “No,” he said in response to Cheri’s question, and he glanced up, peering through the sewer grate he was currently positioned under. “I know you can act. I’m wondering about Mr. Stark.”

_ “He has no idea,” _ Cheri said, and then she hesitated. _ “Which I guess means I should let you all know that I might have to say some pretty nasty things, in order to convince these people that I’m on Stone’s side in all this. I promise that I don’t mean any of it.” _

_ “Don’t worry, Cheri,” _Steve said, from where he himself was posted at a different grate. Peter had placed everyone who’d be underground strategically, in areas where he’d thought they’d be the most effective. As such, Steve was in the building where Horizon’s armed guards spent their breaks. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have too much trouble taking them down. Sam was busy rerouting the ventilation system on the roof per Bruce’s instructions. This all hinged on everyone completing their individual tasks in a very specific order. 

Peter was just grateful that Horizon didn't seem to have employed the same repulsors that Stone had had in place at the mansion the night prior. He didn't know what he'd do if he hadn't had his abilities, which told him more than he was willing to parse through at the moment. 

“Say what you need to,” he told Cheri, and he glanced up again. “I think we’re ready. Once Cheri goes in, Ned and Natasha are going to kill the cameras all over the campus. We’ll have maybe five minutes before they can get them back online.”

_ “You need to rehash the whole scenario again, Parker?” _ Sam asked, sounding a little amused. _ “To ease your conscious?” _

Peter rolled his eyes. _ This _ was part of the reason he didn’t want to ever lead the Avengers; no one would ever take him seriously. 

_ “Leave him alone, Sam,” _ Bruce said, sternly. _ “It’s gonna go fine, Peter. Trust us.” _

Peter closed his eyes for a moment. “I do,” he said aloud. “Okay. Go, Cheri. Everyone else, ready yourselves for the cue.” 

There was silence for maybe fifteen seconds, and then Ned said, _ “Cameras are down. Go.” _

Peter pushed himself up through the grate. He found himself in the room he’d intended to be in, and was relieved that he’d been able to remember. He crossed to the closest computer terminal, and started to hack his way in. His goal was to find any and all information that they had on Spider-Man, and the spiders that had helped to make him, and wipe it from the servers. Both Ned and Natasha had tried to do this from their computers, and neither had been successful, which meant the only way to do it was through a manual wipe from a main Horizon Labs computer. 

Thankfully, Peter was far from completely useless when it came to technology, and he managed to get into their servers pretty easily. He then went on a search, doing his best not to listen too hard to what was happening in the conference room. 

**10:35 AM**

All of the Horizon Labs board members looked like they did not want to be there. Cheri made note of this, and decided this was probably going to be easier than she’d thought. 

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” she greeted as she walked into the room, leading Tony in. All of them looked her over, varying expressions of confusion on their faces, and she smiled at them all. “I understand I’m a new face. My name is Cheryl Schultz. I’m Tiberius Stone’s daughter. He was busy this morning, and so he asked me to escort Mr. Stark to his meeting with you all. I hope that isn’t an issue?” 

A couple of them exchanged a glance, and then the one that was seated at the middle of the table turned to her again. “Apologies,” he said. “It is typical of your father to let us know about these changes.”

“Oh.” Cheri frowned. “He said that he had. Sorry.” 

The man who’d spoken glanced down the long conference table to a woman who was typing on a laptop. After a moment, she looked up, and nodded. “He did,” she said. “It must have been recent, is all.”

“Ah.” The first man’s frown faded, and he even smiled a little. “Well, then, welcome, Cheryl. Your father had hoped you’d join us, one of these days. It’s good to meet you.” 

“You as well, sir,” Cheri said, putting a smile of her own back on her face. 

“You’re the one who’s been dating Peter Parker?” a different board member asked, and Cheri glanced at him. He was studying her, chin resting in hand, looking rather bored. 

“Until recently,” she said, and she rolled her eyes. “Father was determined for me to be very close to him, so that he wouldn’t hesitate in coming to “save” me.” She shook her head. “So much for that, I guess. Still, I’m sure we can do a lot better with whatever Mr. Stark has to offer us.” She looked towards Tony, hinting for him to step forward with a tilt of her head. “What have you brought to bargain with, Mr. Stark?” 

“Uh. Just some things,” Tony said, and he reached up, tapping on the corner of his glasses. A projection shot out from the lenses, displaying the blueprints of the security system that he’d been developing for Stark Tower.

“Your main goal in this is to protect Peter Parker from us, yes?” the first board member asked, and Tony glanced at him, before nodding, once.

“I’d rather he not be turned into a test subject.” 

“Mr. Stark, you must recognize that Mr. Parker’s Spider-Man abilities are, by all rights, the property of Horizon,” a different board member said. “Technically, he is in possession of a stolen experiment. It just so happens that the experiment _ is _ him.”

“We only wish to have our property back,” the first member said. “Unfortunately, despite whatever Mr. Stone might have told you, there isn’t anything of yours that we’re interested in more so than the boy.”

“See, but Parker’s a living being,” Tony said, doing his best not to let his anger show in his tone. “I’m not really one for experimenting on live test subjects, and especially not humans, so _ I’m _ willing to do whatever necessary to keep him away from you.” He tapped his glasses again, and the projection disappeared from view. “So, name your price. Whatever you want, that’ll keep you from going after Parker.”

All of the board members shifted. Cheri noticed that they were clearly not happy with Tony’s statement, and stepped in, before they could call the meeting short, and ruin the whole plan. “Mr. Stark,” she began, “it’s in Horizon’s best interest that Parker be brought in.”

Tony frowned at her. “I’m not speaking to you,” he said, snappishly. “You’re a liar and I hate you.”

Cheri had to suck down a smile. Tony was _ not _ an actor, but at least he could fake anger pretty easily (she _hoped _he was faking). She glared at him. “I was only acting for the wider expanse of people,” she told him. “Once Horizon has him back, they can get started on improving everyone’s lives.”

“She’s right,” the main board member said. “The original intention of the spiders that gave Parker his abilities was to help the mass public become better versions of themselves. Imagine, no need for health care, because everyone could heal themselves through rest alone. Imagine, a lack of a need for cars, because people could run for ages without losing stamina. The world would be a better place. You’d be doing _ everyone _a service.”

“At the cost of Peter,” Tony said, darkly. 

“What’s one boy versus the entire population?” the board member asked him. 

Tony shook his head. “You people - I can’t believe that there are actually people like you that exist,” he said bitterly. 

“What he can do is the property of Horizon Labs,” the board member who’d asked Cheri about her relationship with Peter snapped back. “He stole it.”

“It isn’t his fault that one of your mutant spiders bit him!” Tony retorted. 

There was a moment of silence. Through her communicator, Cheri heard Steve speak up: _ “All the guards are down.” _

_ “I’m still deleting files that are related to me,” _ Peter said. _ “Keep them talking, Cheri.” _

“It seems that we will not be reaching an agreement,” the main board member said, and Cheri panicked. She said the first thing that came to mind. 

“I can still get him here,” she said. 

**10:39 AM**

Peter looked up as the hair on the back of his neck raised, and was able to hop up to the ceiling just before the door to the server room opened. A scientist dressed in a white lab coat entered through it, and Peter cursed silently to himself as he watched the scientist approach the computer he’d been working on, which was still lit up. 

The scientist peered at the screen for a moment, before taking a step back, clearly alarmed by the information he saw pulled up. He started to reach for his pocket, and Peter quickly hopped down from the ceiling, on top of him. The scientist hit the ground, Peter making sure to knock his head against the tile floor on the way. He secured the scientist to the floor with some web as an extra precaution, not that he should have bothered; the guy was out cold. 

Peter exhaled a steadying breath, and returned to the computer to finish his task. 

**10:39 AM**

“Really,” Cheri said, turning to look at all the board members. “I mean, he doesn’t know the truth, yet. The only reason Mr. Stark is here is because he came to our mansion to bargain for the both of us, until Dad let him know that he only needed to fight Peter’s battle. I imagine that Peter and the Avengers are trying to come up with a way to rescue both of us, now, which means, given the chance, I could convince him to come after me.” 

There was quiet discussion among the board members. In her ear, Peter said, _ “Okay, I got it all. Did you get it hooked up, Mr. Wilson?” _

_ “Just call me Sam, kid,” _ Sam said. _ “And yeah, it’s all in place, if Banner’s ready.” _

_ “Everything’s green on this end,” _ Bruce replied, cheerfully. _ “Just say the word, Cheri, and be ready to get Tony out of there.” _

Cheri scooted closer to Tony while the board continued to talk amongst themselves, and she gripped his arm. “Get ready to run,” she said, softly. 

“What?” he asked, frowning at her, and Cheri spoke up again, addressing the board. 

“Then again, maybe he won’t fall for it,” she said. “After all, he’s been a superhero for years, now. He probably can recognize when something’s a little off.”

“What would you suggest, then?” the main board member asked her after a moment, and Cheri smiled. 

“Leaving him the fuck alone. Now, Doc!” 

She shoved Tony ahead of her out of the room, stumbling through the doors after him, which she quickly closed behind her, just as a hissing began from the opposite side. She reached for Tony’s wrist, tapped at his watch until his gauntlet appeared, and then fired a repulsor at the door, securing it shut. It rattled against the melted locks, and she listened as the panic inside the room increased. She didn’t exactly feel too bad, though, considering, and she took Tony’s arm again. 

“Come on,” she said, tugging him with her down the hall. 

“What the fuck just happened?” he demanded as he jogged after her back towards the main entrance. 

“You remember that mixture Harry made to mess with Peter?” Cheri asked him. “We just flooded the room with something similar.” 

Tony gaped. “You killed them all?” 

“No! Even though they probably deserved it,” Cheri said, and she shook her head. “We upped more of the memory loss factor, so that they’ll hopefully forget all about you being here, and about their plans to go after Peter. Pete wiped their servers of information about him, which means even if they _ do _ remember, they won’t have anything left to go off of.”

They reached the main lobby, and Cheri waved her hand to Harry, who scurried out from behind the desk and jogged towards the front entrance. Bucky poked his head out from beneath the desk. “What’re we doing with him?” he asked, shaking Stone. 

Cheri sighed a little. “I guess we’re bringing him with us, even though I’d rather never see him again,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Bucky stood, and lugged Stone up and over his shoulder, before ducking out of the front entrance as well. Cheri gestured with her head for Tony to leave ahead of her, and then she followed, after checking over her shoulder to make sure that they were still in the clear. 

They met up with Steve, Peter, and Sam outside the building. “I think we did it,” Cheri said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, smiling sheepishly at Tony, who merely shook his head in response as they all jogged towards the van that was currently decloaking in the distance. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, and ducked into the van ahead of Steve, who waved everyone in before climbing inside himself, and closing the door. Bruce glanced back at them all from the driver’s seat, grinning. 

“We in?” 

“Go,” Steve confirmed, and Bruce hit the gas. The van sped away from Horizon Labs. Cheri sincerely hoped that was the last time any of them would ever see it, but Peter especially. 

“For the love of God,” Harry breathed, head hanging between his hands, _ “never _ ask me to do something like that again.”

Cheri managed a weak laugh, and leaned against Peter’s shoulder, resting her head on it. Peter responded by leaning his own head against hers, and she let her eyes fall closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may ask: "Why didn't Horizon set up repulsors around the campus like Stone did at his house??" and I'd answer, "Because they're fucking morons who clearly didn't think Spider-Man would be dumb enough to actually come to them, even when his Resident Father Figure is threatened."


	95. Severing Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has to make some choices in order to tie up some loose ends.

**February 20th, 2024 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate NY, USA - 4:32 PM**

Peter poked his head around the corner of the hall leading to Tony’s office and suite on the fourth floor. When they’d all gotten back to the Compound, and Stone had been tossed into one of the guest suites and locked inside, Tony had headed upstairs without a word. 

Peter had elected to give his mentor plenty of space, but now, nearly three hours later, he thought it was time for someone to talk to him. 

He slowly started down the hall, aware that Tony could probably see him approaching via the security camera, if he was watching the feed. He didn’t get an order to stop and go back downstairs, however, and so he kept going, pausing first outside Tony’s office, which was closer. The room was empty. 

Peter continued down to the next door, which was his suite, and knocked. After a moment, the door opened, and Peter frowned when he saw Tony on the other side, looking a little bedraggled. 

“Sorry. Were you sleeping?” Peter asked, and Tony exhaled, reaching up to rub at his eyes. 

“Kind of. Trying. What’s up?” 

“I was just coming to talk,” Peter responded. “A lot has happened over the last twenty-four hours.”

“Exactly why I was trying to get some sleep,” Tony told him, and Peter glanced downwards. “It’s all right, though. We probably should talk. C’mon.” 

He led the way down the hall to his office, where he sank down into his desk chair with a sigh. Peter sat down across the desk from him, still a little apprehensive. He should’ve just left Tony alone until the next day, probably. 

“Did you get sent up here, or was this your decision?” 

Peter smiled a bit. “I came up here on my own,” he said. “But most of the stuff can wait. The only thing we really need to talk about right away is what’s going to happen with Stone.” Tony did not respond, and Peter’s smile faded. “What?” he asked. 

“I just expected you to say that Cheri needs to be included in that discussion,” Tony said, and Peter furrowed his brow, shaking his head at once. 

“Absolutely not,” he said. “She got in touch with him without telling us first. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to be involved at all, when it comes to him.” 

“So you are upset with her about that?” 

“Not… not upset, necessarily,” Peter replied. “Just… wary, I guess. Obviously, she made the right choice, and told him that she didn’t want him around, but… that didn’t really go well.” He lifted his shoulders. “So, y’know, it’s probably smarter to keep her out of it.” 

Tony cocked his head. “And you decided this?”

“No, of course not,” Peter said. “I talked it over with her, and she agrees. She feels like this entire thing was her fault.” 

Tony made a noise that indicated assent. “Which -”

“No, it wasn’t,” Peter interrupted, frowning at him. “And we both know it. Horizon Labs was going to come after me eventually, and if Cheri hadn’t reached out to Stone first, he would’ve reached out to her, or even come after her.” He shook his head. “She just kind of sped the process up a little.”

Tony glanced downwards. “You’re both more mature than I am,” he said after a moment. He looked up again, and at Peter. Peter could tell how tired he was. Tony let out a sigh. “It’d be easiest to just kill him.”

“But that’s not how _ we _ do things,” Peter said. 

“I know, I know,” Tony mumbled. He pressed his face into his hands. “Besides, I don’t think I could let it happen even if we _ did _ do stuff like that. Too much history there.”

Peter was very suddenly reminded of the conversation that they’d had, in this very room, right after New Year’s. He tilted his head. “He… he’s the best friend you told me about,” he said, carefully. “The one you were in love with.”

Tony did not need to reply. The expression on his face when he lifted his head was enough of an answer on its own. Peter turned his gaze away, heartbroken. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he murmured. 

“So am I,” Tony admitted, softly. “But I think… I think it means that I can’t be involved in the decision making process about what to do with him, either.” Peter nodded in agreement. Tony reached across the desk, and gripped Peter’s arm. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said. 

Peter _ wasn’t _ so sure, but he decided not to say so aloud. Instead, he stood up. “Try to get some more rest,” he suggested, starting for the door of the office. “Just, y’know, don’t wake up in the middle of the night and go down to the lab. That’ll mess up your whole schedule, and you’re too old to be staying up that late.”

“Butt head,” Tony said, amicably. He smiled at Peter. “Thanks, kid. For being the smart one, in all this.” 

“Not smart,” Peter replied, smiling back. “Common sense.” 

With that, he exited Tony’s office, and shuffled back towards the elevator, hands in his pockets. He took the elevator down to the second floor, and walked to his suite. As he approached it, he could hear laughter coming from behind the partially closed door, and he smiled a little again, pushing his way inside. 

Cheri, Ned, and Harry all sat on the bed together, playing cards. Ned was clearly losing, but he was doing so with high spirits. Cheri looked up at Peter’s entrance. 

“Hey,” she said, warmly. “How’d it go?” 

“Not so good,” Peter responded tiredly. He pulled the desk chair up to the bed and sank down into it with a heavy sigh. “Mr. Stark doesn’t want to help decide what we’re supposed to do about Stone, which means… I guess it’s up to me? Since I’m the one who’s in the most trouble if he goes back to Horizon Labs, and they didn’t forget about me.” 

“Shit,” Ned said, and Harry reached over, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“That’s rough, buddy.” 

“Don’t,” Peter grumbled, shrugging him off. “This is a big problem.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I was being serious.”

“You can’t be serious and use that phrase,” Ned told him. 

Peter glanced at Cheri, who’d been silent throughout the exchange. She was watching him, brow furrowed, clearly concerned. He shook his head a little, reaching for her hand. She gave it to him. “It’s all right,” he told her. “I’ll figure it out. I guess we can try out the memory loss stuff on him, too.” 

“And if that doesn’t work?” 

Peter shot Ned a glare. “How about we don’t focus on that?” 

“I’m just thinking we need a backup plan,” Ned said, making a face. “Sorry for wanting to be prepared.”

Peter sighed a bit, and then looked at Cheri again. “If we do use the memory loss stuff, and it _ does _work, he probably won’t remember that you’re his daughter.”

“That’s fine,” Cheri said, quietly. “I don’t… he was never going to be my dad, so.” 

It was only then that Peter realized she wasn’t wearing her necklace, because she’d reached up to grab it, only to come up empty handed. She smiled a little sadly, and let out a soft laugh. 

“I forgot I took it off,” she said. “I didn’t want to wear it anymore, knowing the type of person he is.” 

“What’re you going to do with it?” Harry asked her, and Cheri lifted her shoulders.

“You could sell it,” Ned suggested, and both Peter and Harry offered him a look, this time. Ned returned it. “It’s a suggestion! It’s not like she’s gonna give it back to him.”

“No, I’m not going to do that,” Cheri agreed. She considered it for a moment, and then said, “I wonder how much I’d get for it.”

“Are you serious?” Harry demanded, and she shrugged. “But it -”

“Harry, it was a gift from Stone to my mother that she gave to me,” Cheri said, carefully. “Since I know what a dick Stone is, now, I won’t feel bad selling it. At all.” She reached for her phone. “It might even help cover a loan I’ve taken out. Maybe even two.”

There was a moment of silence. Eventually, Harry said, “As far as villains go, he’s kind of been a shitty one.” Cheri snorted. Ned rolled his eyes, reaching for the cards that had been discarded and beginning to shuffle them. 

Peter let out a breath, and stood up again, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. Cheri looked up at him, and said, “Should I make some food for everyone?”

Peter offered her a grateful smile, but shook his head. “I don’t think anyone’s expecting a giant meal to be cooked,” he told her. “It was a long day. I wouldn’t be surprised if people made themselves a sandwich and then went to bed early.” 

“Pfft, I’m with them on that one,” Ned said, and Harry nodded his agreement. Cheri rolled her eyes a little. 

“Okay, I’ll amend my question: should I make some food for the four of us?” she questioned, and Peter sighed. 

“I guess if you feel like you need to do something,” he said. Cheri nodded, pushing herself up off the bed. 

“Kind of want to cook and, like, not think about anything _ but _ cooking,” she explained. “And the first step will be to come up with a meal based on what’s here at the Compound, which should be an exciting task.” She took his hand in hers, and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “What’re you gonna do?” 

Peter exhaled. “I guess deal with the thing,” he said, and Cheri’s expression shifted. He shrugged. “I’d rather get it over with now, rather than, like, wait until he’s had enough time to figure out how to get himself out of this.”

Cheri started to respond, but had to stop when her phone rang. She reached for it, sighed a little, and answered: _ “Hola, Máma.” _ She paused for a moment and then said, “I’m _ fine. _ I was fine last night, and I was fine this morning, and I’m fine now, too. Better, even, because we got Mr. Stark back.” 

Peter let go of her hand, and ducked out of the suite again. He headed for the second floor living room, and sank down onto the couch for a moment, resting his head in his hands. Maybe he could talk to Steve about Stone, see what he thought the best choice would be. He could give good advice. Talking to Bruce might be a good idea, too. 

Maybe they needed to make a group decision? After all, the guy was locked in a Compound suite; technically, he was an Avengers problem, now. Although, Peter supposed he’d been an Avengers problem from the beginning, considering they all looked out for one another. 

He sighed a little to himself. “This sucks.”

“Probably, but what is it that you’re referencing?”

Peter lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder. Bruce was standing behind the couch, hands in his pockets, smiling a bit at him. Peter managed a grin back, although it wasn’t very strong. 

“The Stone issue,” he explained. “Tony said he doesn’t think he should be involved in deciding what we do with him, considering their history.”

Bruce’s shoulders fell. “That makes sense,” he agreed, although he didn’t look happy about it. “It’d be nice to have his opinion, though, if nothing else.”

“Do you think the memory loss stuff would work on him?” Peter asked, and Bruce walked around the couch to sit down next to him. 

“It’s possible,” he said, “and if it _ does, _ then we’ll know it worked on the Horizon people, too.”

“But if it _ doesn’t _ work, we’ll need to come up with a different plan,” Peter concluded, and Bruce nodded. “I just don’t know what that other plan would be.”

“Yeah, that does make it difficult,” Bruce agreed. “We’re short on options.” 

“Very short on options,” Peter mumbled. He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “On top of that, I’ve… I’ve kind of been thinking about… something pretty serious, and I don’t even know if it’s possible, or if I even _ want _ to do it, but… it’s kind of messing up my entire thought process.” He glanced at Bruce. “Can I leave the Stone issue to you and Steve? Like, you guys are senior members, you’ll probably handle this better than me.”

Bruce tilted his head. “You’re the one who’s in the most trouble if Stone leaves here with the intention of going to Horizon,” he said, and Peter closed his eyes.

“Which… is directly related to the serious thing I’m thinking about.”

“Stone is pretty serious on his own,” Bruce commented, sounding thoughtful, “but what’s this other thing?”

Peter closed his eyes. He hadn’t really wanted to share this with anyone else before talking to Tony about it, but if he decided it was something he sincerely wanted to do, then Bruce would end up being involved, so what was the point in holding off? 

“I… I’ve been… considering maybe trying to… figure out a way to maybe… get rid of my Spider-Man… genes,” he said, softly. 

There was silence. He chanced opening his eyes to see Bruce’s reaction. The doctor was merely studying the ground, looking thoughtful. Peter sat up. 

“Do you think it’s something that we could do?” he asked, and Bruce sighed. 

“No,” he admitted, quietly. Peter blinked, and Bruce glanced at him. “Peter, I’ve… I’ve been trying to… get rid of the gamma radiation that turns me into the Hulk for closing in on fifteen years,” he said, gently. “Nothing’s worked. I have to imagine it’d be similar for you. It’s… the spider stuff is embedded into your DNA, now, just like Steve’s super soldier serum is embedded in his, and my green guy stuff is embedded in mine. We can’t just… reverse a change that severe. I’ve tried.” 

Peter looked away again. “Right,” he said, quietly. “I - yeah. I should’ve… concluded that myself, I guess.” He forced a laugh. “How much easier would it be if I wasn’t Spider-Man anymore, though, right?” 

“Peter, that shouldn’t be the reason you’d consider something so serious,” Bruce said. “Would you really want to not be Spider-Man anymore?”

Peter did not respond, which, he supposed, was answer enough. 

“Peter?” They both turned, and Peter winced when he spotted Cheri standing in the arch between the living room and the kitchen. She blinked at him, clearly distraught. “Are you really thinking that way?” she asked, softly, and Peter stood, walking around the couch to where she stood. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I… it’s been on my mind for a couple of weeks. I’ve been wondering if being Spider-Man might mean not doing all the things I want to be able to do with my future.” He was silent for a moment, and then amended, “Or, at least, not being able to do all the things I want to do in the way I want to do them, with complete dedication.”

Cheri glanced between his eyes, reaching out to grip his arms. “Pete, you _ are _ Spider-Man,” she said. “You can’t just _ not _ be him anymore, it’d… you wouldn’t be _ yourself _ anymore, if you gave all of that up.” Peter did not reply, and Cheri moved her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I need you to listen to me,” she said, gently. “Only you know what’s best for you, obviously, but… I know you, and you don’t want to give Spider-Man up. You know how important he is, how important you are as him to New York. And you wouldn’t take him away from people who need him.” 

“But I just… I know it’s selfish, but what about _ us, _ Cher?” Peter asked her. “What about you and me, our future together? My future as an engineer? Spider-Man might be important to New York, but it… I’ve been thinking about New York since I was fifteen. Maybe it’s time I let myself think about me, and what’s best for me.”

Cheri glanced up at him, and with complete certainty she said, “Spider-Man is part of what’s best for you.”

Peter gazed down at her for a moment before exhaling a breath. “I don’t know,” he said, quietly. “But I guess it doesn’t matter, since I can’t do anything about it, anyway.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then stepped away from her. Cheri kept her hand in his, however, and he smiled sadly at her. “I gotta deal with this thing, Cher.”

“I know,” she said, quietly, “but wait a minute, please. You asked me to talk to you whenever I’m feeling bad, and now I’m asking you to do the same. Talk to me.”

Peter glanced towards the couch, but Bruce had surreptitiously exited the room, which Peter didn’t really blame him for. He turned his gaze back towards Cheri, and said, “What should we do with Stone?” 

Cheri blinked at him. “You want my opinion?” 

“I need _ someone’s _ opinion,” Peter replied, “and our choices are kind of in short supply. Tell me what you think.”

Cheri was silent for a very long moment. Finally, she glanced down. “I… I think we need to do whatever we can to make sure that he doesn’t go back to Horizon,” she said. “I’m not really sure what that entails, but… we can’t risk him telling them about you. I don’t want you in danger.” 

Peter offered her a smile when she looked up at him again. “I’m always going to be in danger, Treble Clef,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. 

“You know what I mean. Of them. Letting them get a hold of you, to make more people with your abilities, that’s… that’s a really scary idea. We can’t let it happen.” 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment, and then he sighed a little. “I just wish there was, like, a way we could know for _ sure _that his memory will be wiped. We can’t keep him here for weeks while we figure out something more certain, though, so I guess…” 

He trailed off, watching as the by now familiar sparks indicating one of Dr. Strange’s portals appeared. A few seconds later, Strange himself was stepping through it. Peter frowned at him. 

“What?” he asked, flatly, and Cheri smacked him on the shoulder. Strange, however, did not look bothered by the question, or the tone in which it had been asked. 

“Is he upstairs?” he asked instead, and Peter rolled his eyes a little, leaving Cheri to answer. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Pretty sure he’s sleeping.” She hesitated, and then said, “Dr. Strange, is there… is there some type of magic you could do that can… alter a person’s memories?” 

Strange frowned. “Why?” he asked. 

“We… kind of have a loose end that would pretty easily tied up if we could do that,” Cheri explained. “So I was just wondering if you’d be willing to help with that, since you didn’t… y’know. Help earlier.” 

“I was busy,” Strange said, repeating the same excuse he’d used to explain why he wouldn’t be joining them in their mission to reach Tony. 

“Right,” Peter said, sourly. “And I bet you’re too busy now, too.” 

Strange lifted his gaze patiently towards the ceiling. “I can alter memories,” he said, “but there needs to be a reasonable path to connect the original memory to the new one. If it doesn’t make logistical sense, it won’t work.” 

“Wait, so… you decide what the new memory will be?” Cheri asked, frowning, and Strange nodded. 

“They can’t just be fabricated from nothing.” 

Cheri exchanged a glance with Peter. Peter was not at all happy with the idea of involving Strange, but if they wanted to do this, and do it right, it seemed like they needed him. Which was annoying. 

Cheri gave up on him, and turned back to Strange. “So. Would you mind… messing with my sperm donor's memories so that he has no idea who Peter is, and won’t try to go back to Horizon and give them information about him?” she asked, hopefully. 

Strange raised his eyebrows. “It’s possible,” he said. “Is he here?” 

“Yeah,” she said, “and we want him out of here sooner rather than later.” 

Strange gestured. “Then let’s do that. I’d rather not go see Tony if he’s trying to get some sleep; he doesn’t get enough as it is.”

Cheri looked at Peter again. “Pete?” she prompted, quietly, knowing that he hated everything about Strange being involved. 

Peter stared at nothing for a second, before shaking his head a little and starting for the guest suite that they’d locked Stone in. “Come on,” he said, tiredly. “Cher, you too.”

“Oh, uh… okay,” she agreed, a little confused. Nonetheless, they both followed him to the elevator, which would take them down to the first floor where the three guest suites were. The elevator ride was silent, and Peter did not look at Strange, who didn’t seem to mind. He had his eyes closed; Cheri wondered if he was creating the replacement memories in his mind. 

Once they reached the first floor, Peter led the way to the suite that they’d put Stone into. For maybe two hours after they’d gotten back to the Compound, during which he’d been awake, Stone had been busy pounding on the locked door and demanding to see Tony. Thankfully, there were three other floors in the Compound, plus a basement, that everyone could go to so that they wouldn’t have to listen to him. Now, however, there was silence from behind the door. It was almost eerie, considering how much noise Stone _ had _ been making. 

Cheri frowned at the door. “Don’t like that,” she commented, and Peter shook his head. 

“He probably wore himself out,” he said, and glanced upwards. “FRIDAY?” 

“Mr. Stone is currently sitting on the bed, looking at the ground,” the AI reported. “Which is what he’s been doing for the past fifteen minutes.”

Peter looked at Strange. “Think you can handle him?” he asked, not really caring that much. 

“I’m sure I can,” Strange replied. “Cheri?” She turned to him, and he said, “You need to be in there with me.”

“I - wait, what? Why?” she asked, blinking, while Peter stepped in front of her as a safeguard. 

“Absolutely not,” he said, firmly.

Strange ignored him in favor of explaining: “It’s easier to alter someone’s memory if a person who’s related to them is present. It’s like… convincing the person to believe the new memory, and they’re more likely to believe something coming from a family member.” 

Cheri made a face. “I wouldn’t call Stone my family,” she said, and Strange shook his head. 

“It’s merely scientific,” he said. “The biological connection.”

“With _ magic?” _ Cheri asked, incredulous. 

Strange sighed. “It’s difficult to explain,” he told her, “and you said you want this over and done with quickly.”

Cheri’s shoulders fell. “We do,” she admitted. She squeezed Peter’s wrist. “It’ll be fine, Pete,” she assured him. “Why don’t you go tell Cap that we’ll need to get Stone out of here? Someone’s going to need to drive him somewhere.”

Peter studied Strange for several more seconds, eyes narrowed. Strange gazed back, face blank. Finally, Peter snorted, and turned to Cheri. “Fine,” he said, and then he shot Strange one final look before walking away again.

When he was out of earshot, Strange said, “He distrusts me.”

“Yeah, a little, I think,” Cheri agreed. “I’m not sure why.”

“I can take a few guesses, and none of them are invalid,” Strange admitted after a moment, and then he shook his head. “Are we doing this?”

“Yes,” Cheri said, and she inhaled. “FRI, go ahead and unlock the door, please.”

She heard the electronic lock click open, and she reached out, opening the door carefully. Strange stepped into the room ahead of her, hands behind his back. Cheri followed, and closed the door behind her. 

The lights in the suite were on, and Stone _ was _ sitting on the bed, head bowed. He looked up, however, when the door closed, and frowned at them. 

“What’s this?” he mumbled. “Are you here to invite me to a trial by combat?” 

“Shut up,” Cheri said. She really didn’t want to prolong this. She glanced up at Strange. “What do we have to do?” 

“What _ are _ you going to do?” Stone put in before Strange could respond. 

“Tell him,” Strange said, and Cheri lifted an eyebrow. He nodded. “It’s a good introductory idea that’ll make it easier.”

Cheri looked at Stone, who was frowning at them both. “All right,” she said, and she took a step closer to the bed. “We’re going to change your memory, so that you can’t go to Horizon and tell them anything about Peter.”

Stone glanced between them, and then he snorted derisively. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and he scooted backwards on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. “I believe that, definitely.”

“It’ll be less painful if you _ do _ believe it, Mr. Stone,” Strange informed him, stepping up to the bed. “Cheri, you’ll need to take his hand.”

“Ew, no,” she said at once, and Strange offered her a look. She scowled at him. “I’m not going to touch him.”

“Do you want this to work properly or not?” Strange queried, and Cheri looked up at the ceiling for a moment, before groaning quietly under her breath and joining him at the bedside. She then reached out and took Stone’s hand between both of hers, hating every second that she had to hold it. 

Stone tried to tug his hand away, but Cheri held tight. He huffed. “What are you going to do?” he asked Strange, smartly. “Hypnotize me?” 

“For lack of a better word, yes, we can say that’s what this is,” Strange said, and then he raised his hands, pressing the fingers of one to Stone’s forehead, and the fingers of the other to his chest, just below his sternum. “Don’t let go of his hand, Cheri,” he continued to her. “And I need you to think _ very hard _ about the idea of Stone having no idea who Peter is. He’s never heard of him, he never _ will _ hear of him. Got it?” 

“Yep,” Cheri said. “That’s just, like, self-deception, which is my favorite kind.”

Stone glared at her. “Are you really going to let this happen?” he asked her. “Let him do this to me, for your own personal gain?”

“I guess if that's true, I am my father’s daughter after all, aren’t I?” Cheri said, flatly, and she looked at Strange. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank God magic exists as a convenient plot device!


	96. Grown Up Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen finally have their grown up conversation. Tony's half of it, at least.

**February 20th, 2024 - New Avengers Compound - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA - 6:15 PM**

Stephen paused outside of Tony’s suite, hesitant. He needed to see him, but he didn’t want to bother him, if he was trying to recuperate from the day’s events. Besides that, who knew if Tony even wanted to see him, considering his lack of involvement. No doubt Tony thought Stephen gave little to zero shits about him, and the people he cared about. 

He closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe it was better if he left. He’d done what he could pertaining to Stone, and it seemed to have worked; Rogers and Barnes had carted him out of the guest suite, unconscious, only after Cheri had interrogated him pretty harshly on what he knew about Peter Parker, to which Stone had adamantly exclaimed, “I don’t know who the fuck that is! Where _ am _I?” 

Banner, the best judge of character in the place, had been positive that Stone was telling the truth, that he _ didn’t _ know anything about Peter, or about where he was. Stephen had decided not to point out that he’d known the magic was foolproof; if they wanted to reassure themselves by going through all those steps, all the better. 

He’d done what was asked of him, in hopes to make up for not getting involved earlier on, even though if they _ knew _ what he’d been doing, they wouldn’t have thought he needed to make up for anything. Still, he couldn’t tell them, for the sake of not messing up the timeline they found themselves in. 

That was the burden of having control over the fabric of time itself, he supposed. Everything you did to fix things had to remain your information alone, less you completely invalidate what you hoped to alter. 

He let out a breath, and started to turn, to walk away from Tony’s suite again. It had been a long day for him. Stephen could wait to talk with him. 

“Stephen?” 

He paused, and glanced over his shoulder. Tony was leaning out the door of the suite, his hair and clothing disheveled. He blinked blearily at Stephen, clearly befuddled. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. 

Stephen turned completely and walked towards him, shuffling Tony backwards into the suite, closing the door behind him. Once it was shut, he turned back to Tony, placed his arms around his waist, and bent down, kissing him deeply. Tony leaned up into the kiss, hands landing on Stephen’s shoulders, breathing out gently through his nose. 

After a moment, however, he pulled back. Stephen refused to move, resting his forehead against Tony’s, leaving Tony to blink up at him. 

“What the hell was that for?” he asked. 

“You have absolutely no idea how worried I was about you,” Stephen murmured in response. “If I’d been able to, I would’ve assisted the others in getting you home. Since I couldn’t, I’m in their debt, for making sure you got back safely.” 

Tony laughed a little. “I think you’re blowing things out of proportion,” he said, lightly. “I wasn’t ever in danger.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Stephen said. “You planned to do something that could’ve caused a _ lot _ of problems.” 

“I did,” Tony admitted. “Yeah. But I… I only wanted Peter safe.”

“He’s safe,” Stephen assured. “Cheri and I made sure of that.”

“Stone?” Tony guessed, and Stephen nodded. Tony exhaled. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“We changed his memories,” Stephen explained all the same, and Tony closed his eyes for a moment. Stephen tightened his grip around his waist, just the slightest bit. “You loved him.”

“Once,” Tony agreed, under his breath. “He was a bad guy, but I think I tried to convince myself for the longest time that he wasn’t.”

“And now?” Stephen asked. 

Tony smiled a bit, opening his eyes again. He looked up and met Stephen’s. “I know better,” he assured, before leaning up to kiss him again. He then rested his forehead against Stephen’s shoulder, hugging him. “I guess I don’t get to know what you were too busy doing to save your damsel in distress, huh?” 

“Sorry,” Stephen apologized, “but it’d mess with the space-time continuum, which we’ve done enough for one lifetime, I think.”

“Fair enough,” Tony said. “Uhm. Do you have time now, though?” 

“Yes,” Stephen replied immediately. “All the time in the world, if you want it.”

“Perfect.” Tony pulled back a bit, meeting his eyes. “I think I’m ready to have that adult conversation. If you are.”

Stephen smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Cool.” Tony walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, pulling Stephen down beside them. He was silent for a long moment, considering where to start, before he said, “All right, uh… I guess… what do you… already know?”

Stephen chuckled, and told him. Tony filled in the gaps, which meant explaining things that he hadn’t shared with anyone, in a very long time.

At the end of it, however, with Stephen cradling him to his chest while Tony wiped away tears that he hadn’t expected to come, he realized that he felt lighter than he had in years, and decided that, yeah, this was what having a relationship with someone should be. Being able to unload it all on someone whom you trusted implicitly, and to feel weightless on the other side. 

He’d missed having the opportunity, and hoped that Stephen understood that he could do the same, with Tony, when he decided that he wanted to. 

“That’s it,” he said at last, and listened as Stephen exhaled, hugging him closer. 

“When was the last time you told someone all that?” 

“Never,” Tony admitted. “I always withhold at least a little, more for… protecting myself, I guess.” He pulled back, sniffling. “I don’t feel like I need to do that, when it comes to you.”

“No,” Stephen assured, resting his hand on Tony’s thigh. “Maybe it’s about time you let someone else worry about protecting you, rather than feeling like you have to protect yourself, and everyone else, too.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice?” Tony sighed, closing his eyes. He really did want to sleep some more, but he probably need to eat something, first. He hummed a bit, and stretched, yawning. He then stood up, and looked at Stephen, holding out his hand. “Come find some food with me.” 

Stephen smiled, and placed his hand into Tony’s, letting him pull him to his feet and lead him out of the suite. 

Tony picked the second floor kitchen, for some reason (probably an intrinsic need to see Peter, make sure that he was okay). They indeed found Peter _ and _ Cheri in the second floor living room, together on the couch. Cheri was fast asleep, leaning back against Peter’s chest. Peter appeared to be asleep, too, but he woke up almost as soon as Tony and Stephen entered the room. 

“Hey,” he said, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “How’re you doing?” 

“Good,” Tony replied. He lifted his eyebrows, nodding to Cheri, and Peter smiled a little, wrapping his arms around her again. “You looked comfortable. Sorry we woke you up.”

“It’s - I wasn’t really sleeping, just dozing off a little.” He glanced between Tony and Stephen, and then looked directly at Tony. “Stone’s -”

“Dealt with, yeah,” Tony finished for him. “Stephen told me.”

“Right.” Peter rested his chin gently against Cheri’s head. “I sent Ned and Harry to get Cheri’s car, from the mansion. They had to take one of your cars to do that, but if something happens to it, you can take the money to get it fixed out of my paycheck.”

“Pete.” 

“Yeah?”

“Get some more sleep,” Tony suggested, and he pulled Stephen with him out of the living room, to the kitchen instead. Peter watched the two of them go before sighing to himself. Cheri shifted against him, and he tightened his grip around her just the tiniest bit. She let out a content sound, her head lolling back against his shoulder. 

“Did I hear voices?” she murmured. 

“Yeah, Mr. Stark emerged, finally,” Peter replied, softly. “I think he’s okay.”

“Good,” Cheri said, and she sounded as though she were smiling. “Did Ned and Harry -?”

“Harry sent a text that they made it to the mansion, and that he was driving your car back, because he didn’t trust himself with the Audi.” 

Cheri snorted, and Peter smirked, pressing his face into her hair for a moment. They were both silent. 

“How’re you doing?” he finally asked, and she inhaled. 

“Okay,” she said. “It… I don’t really know how to explain what happened.” She hesitated. “I don’t know, it was like… like a blood transfusion? But… memories.”

“That’s… that’s actually a very descriptive explanation,” Peter said, feeling as though he knew exactly what she meant. He didn’t _ like _ the feeling. “Uhm. Wow. I can’t… I’m sorry you had to do that?” 

“I did it for you, Queens,” Cheri said, drowsily. “I’d do anything for you.”

Peter smiled again, a bit softer this time. “Same here, Treble Clef,” he said. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” Cheri hummed. Clearly, she was drifting off again. Peter hugged her closer to him, closing his own eyes. 

“Cher?”

“Mm?” 

He hesitated a moment. “Will you…” He paused, swallowed, and then lowered his voice, to barely more than a whisper. “Will you marry me?”

“Mhm.” 

Peter’s smile grew, and he kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep,” he suggested, quietly. “You’re exhausted.”

Cheri did not respond at all, this time, and within seconds, her breathing had deepened. Peter leaned his head back a bit, grateful for the high arms of the couch, and went back to dozing himself, content to stay this way forever, no matter the implications. 

In the kitchen, Stephen finished making a second sandwich, which he placed onto the platter that Tony had scrounged up from a cabinet. He then looked over at Tony, who’d sank down onto a bar stool, and was watching him, smiling a bit. Stephen smiled back.

“What?” he asked, pretty sure he already knew. 

“Move into the Compound,” Tony said, and Stephen chuckled, shaking his head. Tony placed his hands on the counter. “Why not?” 

“Because the Sanctorum needs me,” Stephen answered, and Tony blew a raspberry. 

“You can get to the Sanctorum in three seconds from here,” he said, and Stephen looked back down at their food, dumping a pile of mini pretzels onto the platter as well. “Am I wrong?” 

“No,” Stephen conceded. 

“So?”

“Tony, you told me your life story ten minutes ago,” Stephen said. 

“Which I’ve never completely told anyone, remember.”

Stephen glanced up at him. Tony was giving him his sweetest look, which _ was _ cute, but he was standing by his decision. 

“You know why it’s a bad idea for me to live here,” Stephen told him, and Tony relented, dropping his head onto the counter as well. 

“You’re no fun.”

“I want this to last,” Stephen replied, lightly. He picked up the platter. “Are we actually taking this upstairs, or are you not moving anymore this evening?”

Tony slid off the bar stool, and followed after Stephen to the elevator. “I’m not gonna stop asking,” he said as it traveled back up to the fourth floor. 

“I know,” Stephen said. The elevator door opened on the fourth floor, and he stepped out of it first, Tony right behind him. 

“And… are you ever going to give in?” Tony asked. 

Stephen smiled a bit, opening the door to Tony’s suite. “Maybe,” he said. “Check with me again in a year or two.” 

“Honey, I’ll be checking every month,” Tony assured, and he closed the door behind him. “Gimme my sandwich. I’m _ starving.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! After the other chapter that goes up today, we'll just have the "epilogue" of sorts left.   
Can't believe we made it, folks.


	97. 8:34 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up with a realization.

**February 21st, 2024 New Avengers Compound - Somewhere In Upstate New York, USA - 8:34 PM**

Tony shot straight up in bed. Beside him, Stephen glanced over at him, lowering the book he'd been reading. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you okay?” 

Tony stammered for a moment, before he said, “Peter sent Ned and Harry out to get Cheri’s car in one of _ my _cars!” 

Stephen let out a very tired sounding sigh, and turned his attention back to his book. “Go back to sleep, Tony,” he suggested. 

“My _ car,” _ Tony said, voice cracking a little. 

Stephen reached over with one hand, and gentle push Tony down. _ “Sleep,” _ he insisted. 

“My _ car,” _ Tony whined, more softly, but then he was asleep again, and Stephen smiled to himself, relaxing into his pillow.

* * *

Steve settled down into bed beside Bucky with an exhale. Bucky rolled over so that he was facing him, and propped his head up on his hand. 

"What's on your mind?" he asked. 

Steve shook his head. "Nothing, really," he responded. "Just..." He trailed off, and after a moment, smiled a bit. "I'm just glad we're all doing okay, I guess."

"Ah." Bucky reached over and gently squeezed his arm. "I think, after everything, we deserve a break."

"Probably," Steve agreed. He considered, and then glanced over at his partner. "I've always wanted to visit Ireland. What do you think?" 

"I think that's a great idea," Bucky replied, "but only if Stark lets us use the private jet."

Steve chuckled. "I'm sure he'd be amenable to that."

* * *

Bruce watched Natasha finish with tugging her hair into a bun, before she joined him in bed. 

"Hey," he began, and she looked over at him, just before she could turn off the lamp. 

"Hm?"

Bruce smiled. "You think we could finish out our honeymoon?" he asked. "Properly?" 

Natasha clicked her tongue. "I don't know, Doc," she said, and flipped the lamp switch, settling down next to him. "Maybe it'd be smarter to just make our own honeymoon here."

Bruce sighed a little, but scooted up behind her, cuddling close. "Maybe you're right," he agreed, closing his eyes.

* * *

Harry parked Tony's Audi very carefully next to where Ned had pulled Cheri's Honda in, and let out a breath of relief. The drive had gone okay, but he never wanted to drive an Audi ever again. 

He climbed from the car, gingerly closing the door, wincing a little at the sound it made as it clicked into place. Ned snickered at him. 

"Shut it," Harry said. "You drive one of Tony Stark's cars, and then talk to me." He pointed to the Audi. "This thing is nuts."

Ned flapped his hand. "Let's go upstairs," he said, heading for the elevator on the parking garage level of the Compound. "I'm exhausted."

Harry decided that he was, too, and followed after his friend. 

* * *

Peter heard Cheri sit up beside him in bed, sighing a little. He rolled over to look at her, blinking. "What's the matter?" he questioned. 

"Harry drove Mr. Stark's car back, right?" she asked. 

"Yeah, I think so," Peter replied, rubbing at his eyes. "Why?" 

Cheri hummed. "I just hope that Ned didn't total mine," she explained, and Peter snorted, rolling back over onto his side. 

"Go to sleep, Cher."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, see you on Friday for the last one.   
Oh, and also, if you can, please head over here <https://t.co/rdFPA9k6CW?amp=1> to find out what you can do to help with the Black Lives Matter movement. I have to imagine that none of our beloved Marvel characters would stand for the injustice and inequality present in this country. Let's fucking do something about it, since there aren't any superheroes to do it for us. _We_ need to be the superheroes.


	98. After Graduation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Spongebob narrator voice* Several months later.

**June 11th, 2024 - Yankee Stadium - 1 E. 161st St., The Bronx, New York, NY, USA - 5:32 PM**

“Cheri!” 

Cheri grinned, spotting Abuela amidst the gathered graduates and their guests, waving frantically from where she stood on a planter outside of the stadium where graduation had been held. Cheri pushed her way through the crowd to get to the planter, reaching up to help her grandmother down from it. 

“You are almost seventy,” Cheri told her. “You should not be climbing up onto planters that are two feet off the ground!” 

“I’m only sixty-seven,” Abuela said, dismissively, pressing kisses to either of Cheri’s cheeks. “I am so proud of you, _ mija.” _

_ “Gracias, Abuela,” _Cheri replied, smiling at her. “I’m glad you were able to be here.” 

“Not for much longer,” Abuela admitted. “My back is killing me. I’m going to call myself a car and head home.”

Cheri nodded in understanding, knowing that no one else in their party would be able to drive her, considering their dinner reservations. She glanced around. “Where’d everyone else go?” she asked. 

“Your mother needed to use the bathroom,” Abuela said. “Tony thought she’d get lost, so he went with her. I’m not sure where the boys got off too.” She looked at Cheri, smiling softly, and gave her another long hug. _"__Te amo. _I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay,” Cheri said, and she followed her a few steps. “Do you want me to wait with you?” 

“No,” Abuela said, waving her off. “I can take care of myself. Go find the others.” 

Cheri let her grandmother disappear into the crowd, and then she turned, peering around, trying to spot another recognizable face. Before she could, someone picked her up from behind and swung her around in a wide circle. 

“Harold!” Cheri exclaimed, but she was laughing. “Put me down! You’re going to throw out your back!” 

Harry chortled from behind her, and set her down again. Cheri turned to face him, and Ned, who was pushing his way through two different families. Harry spread his arms. “You did it!” he cheered.

“I mean, kind of,” Cheri said. “I have a week of school left.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you _basically_ did it,” Harry said. He gestured. “Hug me, dammit!” 

Cheri did so, laughing again, and then she turned to hug Ned, too, who squeezed her tightly. “Where’s Pete?” she asked them both, pulling back. 

Ned and Harry exchanged a look, before Ned turned to her and said, “Dunno. Think he went to the bathroom or something? We lost him in the crowd coming outside.” 

“Huh.” Cheri glanced over her shoulder, frowning a little. “I haven’t seen Tony or my mom, yet, either.”

“I’m sure we’ll find them,” Harry said, and he slung an arm around her neck. “Where’re you taking us to eat, with all your graduation money?” 

“What money?” Cheri replied with a snort. “I told everyone no gifts.” She shrugged him off, and looked around again, smiling when she spotted familiar faces. “There they are.”

Isabel created a path through the people around them, despite how short she was, with Tony following close behind so that he wouldn’t get sucked into the crowd. They breached into the space that the three younger adults had established, and Isabel grabbed Cheri up into a tight hug. 

Cheri hugged her mother back, eyes closed. “Thought you’d gotten lost,” she joked, and Isabel snorted derisively, pulling back. She jerked her head in Tony’s direction, who looked the tiniest bit sheepish. 

“He thought I would, but then _ he _ got us lost,” Isabel said. 

“Okay, I didn’t - I just took us out the wrong door,” Tony said. “They all look the same, and like, I just wanted to get outside.”

“But I told you that we should follow all the people, since wherever they were going was probably where the graduates would be,” Isabel told him. 

Cheri rolled her eyes, and stepped up to hug Tony, too. “You two should never go anywhere together,” she decided, and then she looked between them. “Do _ you _ know where Peter is?”

Isabel lifted an eyebrow. “He wasn’t with you two?” she asked Ned and Harry, both of whom very quickly shook their heads. _ Too _quickly. 

Cheri frowned at them. “What do you two know?” she asked. 

“Know? I don’t know anything,” Harry said at once. He looked at Ned, blinking. “Do you know anything?”

“Nope, nothing,” Ned replied. 

“We should probably get going, if we want to make the reservation,” Tony suggested, glancing at his watch. 

“What? We can’t leave without Peter,” Cheri said, blinking at him, and Tony shrugged. 

“He knows where we’re getting dinner.” He looked at Ned and Harry. “You guys coming?” 

“Duh,” Ned said at once. “Free food!” 

“Free food _ is _ good,” Harry said. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, and then he hooked his arm through Cheri’s. “Let’s go.”

“But - Pete -” Cheri tried, only to have her mother step up on her other side. 

“You know that he’s more than capable of finding us, _ mija,” _ she said. “Tony’s right; we need to get to the restaurant.” 

Cheri sighed a bit, glancing briefly over her shoulder as they began to lead her through the people towards the parking lot. She hoped they were right, that Peter _ would _ find them, because she was starting to worry. 

As they walked through the parking lot, Tony fell into step with her as the group spread out a little. She glanced up at him, and he smiled down at her in response, before reaching out and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

"Really proud of you, kid," he said. 

Cheri had to smile at that, and she hugged him back. "Thanks, Tony_,"_ she said, fiddling with her mortarboard. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Ah, we don't need to talk about that," Tony decided, and he ruffled her hair a bit. "And don't worry about Peter; he's fine, I promise." 

"If you say so," Cheri said, although she didn't mean it. 

**71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA - 8:21 PM**

“Cheri, I’m _ positive _ that he’s fine,” Harry said, leading the way up the stairs to the apartment. He reached back and pulled her phone out of her hands. “Stop it. He probably just had to go, like, help with a drug bust or something.”

“Yeah,” Ned agreed from behind her. “Or maybe they finally figured out where that Tombstone guy is, and needed his help with going after him.”

“He wouldn’t just _ leave _ without telling me, though,” Cheri insisted. All through dinner, she’d been worrying about her boyfriend, trying to get in touch with him. All of her texts had gone unanswered, and her phone calls been sent straight to voicemail, which was not how it worked, with Peter. He’d been so much better about keeping her in the loop when it came to Spider-Man activity; she didn’t see why today would be any different, even though she’d graduated. If anything, he wouldn’t have wanted to ruin the day by not telling her that he was all right. 

There was something wrong. Scary thoughts about Horizon _ finally _ choosing to come after him, even after all these months, even after they’d been so sure that they’d been successful in getting rid of that particular threat, raced through her mind. 

“Guys,” Cheri said, trying in vain to get her phone back from Harry. “I really think that he’s, like, in trouble or something. He’d at least have sent a text by now, with like, an emoji, if nothing else.” She shook her head. “Maybe we should go looking for him.”

“When have we ever done that?” Ned asked her, frowning, and Cheri shrugged. 

“Never, I guess, but -”

“Jesus, Cheri,” Harry sighed, impatiently. “Stop worrying so much. It’s graduation night. We’re going to get you wasted, and you’re going to fall asleep, and you won’t even know Peter’s gone. When you wake up at noon tomorrow, he’ll be here, ready to make fun of you and your hangover, I’m positive.”

Cheri wanted to argue more, but they’d reached the door of the apartment, and Harry chose to ignore her in favor of getting it unlocked. The door swung open, and Cheri frowned, noting the odd lighting on the inside. 

Before she could say anything, however, Harry suddenly reversed their positions, pushing her in front of him and into the apartment. “Harry,” she began, hotly, but forgot whatever else she’d wanted to say when she realized what he’d pushed her into. 

There were candles all over the apartment, covering literally every stable surface. Music played softly from the Bluetooth speaker near the TV. Peter stood in the middle of the room, hands in the pockets of the slacks he was wearing, paired with a nice button up shirt. He was smiling. 

Cheri had to take a second, before she was able to speak. Even then, though, she was only able to get out, “What’s…?”

Peter lifted his shoulders. “I figured this was fitting,” he said, “considering you said, once, that we were like Chandler and Monica.” 

Cheri blinked at him, and then she looked over her shoulder. Ned and Harry were both standing in the doorway, grinning. Ned held up an ‘O.K.’ sign with his thumb and forefinger, while Harry merely winked at her, before both retreated, the door closing again. She turned back to Peter, who’d removed his hands from his pockets. He held a small box in one of them. 

“You okay?” he asked, and Cheri managed a weak laugh, nodding. She walked towards where he was standing, when he held out his free hand to her, and she placed her own into it. Peter looked down at their hands for a moment, before lifting his gaze back up to hers. “I didn’t… I mean, I tried to plan something to say, but it all just sounded kind of cheesy, and I didn’t want this to be cheesy, so… if you’re okay with it, I’m just gonna… say what comes to mind.”

“Go ahead,” she murmured, and Peter grinned again, before clearing his throat. 

“Okay, here goes,” he started, and he squeezed her hand, just a little. “Cher, you… you are probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and… considering my life, I think that says a _ lot _ about how much I love you, and how much you mean to me. For the past four years or so, you’ve always come to mind, whenever I find myself thinking about something pretty major. I’m like, “Well, what does that mean for Cheri?” or “How would Cheri feel about this?” You’re always _ there, _ I guess, and I… I couldn’t imagine you ever _ not _ being there.

“For a long time, I wondered if I’d ever be able to have this sort of relationship with someone, one as intimate and personal as ours is, considering how much I have to hide from the majority of the world. But then… there you were, and I… I realized that trying for a relationship like that, with you, was worth it, because _ you’re _ worth it, and I… I’m really glad that it worked out, that you didn’t, like, sell my secret to anyone in order to pay off your student debt.”

Cheri giggled, and Peter glanced down again, smiling, his cheeks pink. “Anyway, I just… I just wanted to make sure you knew that, even though we’ve only been dating for, like, two years, this… this is definitely what I want, and, y’know, if you want it, too, then I’m… I’m super ready. I feel like I could be ready for anything, as long as you’re right there with me.” 

There was a pause, and then he seemed to remember there was a final step to this whole thing, because he blinked, and said, “So!” 

Cheri laughed again, watching as he sank down to one knee, pulling his hand from hers in order to open the box he’d been holding. He held it up to her, and Cheri smiled, looking down at the ring for a second, before meeting his eyes. 

“Cheryl Maria Schultz,” he said. “Treble Clef. Will you marry me?” 

Cheri nodded, and when Peter lifted his eyebrows, clearly searching for verbal confirmation, she sighed, and said, “Yes, of course. Goof.” 

Peter’s shoulders fell, seemingly in relief, and he took the ring out of the box before slipping it onto her finger. Cheri then tugged him to his feet so that she could get her arms around him and kiss him. Peter held her close, hands on her waist, smiling into the kiss. 

Eventually, though, Cheri pulled back, so that she could see what the ring looked like on her finger. Not surprisingly, it looked really good. 

“Is this _ really _ the August birthstone, you absolute sap?” she asked him, and Peter nodded. She shook her head in affection. “You _ are _ a goof. I love you so much.” She leaned up and kissed him again, deeply. Peter moved his arms around her waist, lifting her from the ground so that she wouldn’t need to lean up. 

“I love you too,” he said when she pulled away. 

They swayed to the music for a moment in silence, Cheri resting her head on his shoulder. Eventually, though, she frowned a bit, and lifted head again to look at him. 

“What?” he asked, seeing her expression.

“Are we allowed to have all these candles lit?” she asked, and Peter glanced around for a moment, at each individual fire hazard that littered the entire expanse of the front room. 

“Uhm. Probably not,” he said, which prompted them both to immediately go around the room to blow them all out. Once they had, they met in the middle again, Peter flipping on the real light. Cheri laughed. 

“I appreciate the effort,” she assured, and Peter sighed a little, tugging her back towards him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Be honest: you knew that I was going to propose.”

Cheri hummed. “I… I knew you had _ plans _ to,” she admitted. “I didn’t know when, though.” She smiled a bit. “You’ve kind of had proposal eyes for the past couple of weeks.”

“What the hell are proposal eyes?” Peter asked, smirking, and Cheri pointed at his face. 

“What you've had for the past couple of weeks.” 

Peter reached up and grabbed her hand, kissing her fingertips. Cheri watched him do so, and then she said, “What did you have to pay Ned and Harry to get them to leave us alone?”

“Fifty bucks,” he replied, spinning her outwards from him using the hand he held, and then pulling her back in. “I figured they’d spend it someplace stupid, like the barcade where we had Ned’s party last year.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Cheri said. “That was a lot more fun than just sitting here at the apartment.” 

Peter shrugged. “Ned said that he wanted to do nothing, so that’s what we did.”

Cheri shook her head. “Why’re we all, like, seventy years old?” she asked, and Peter laughed, slipping an arm around her back so that he could dip her. She gasped, terrified, and gripped his shoulder tightly. “Don’t do that!”

“What?” he asked, playfully. “I’ve got you.” 

Cheri sighed a bit as he straightened her back up. “You do, don’t you?” she asked. She latched her fingers together behind his neck, meeting his eyes. Peter smiled down at her, expression soft, and she leaned up to kiss him again. 

When she settled back down, she rested her head against his shoulder once more, and they swayed to the music again, which acted as a nice background to the thoughts of the future that were drifting through both of their heads.

After a while, Peter said, “I actually proposed months ago.”

“I know,” Cheri replied. “And my answer was the same then.”

Peter tightened his grip around her waist. “I actually had the ring, this time, though, so I think this is more definitive.”

Cheri snorted. “It’s _ been _ definitive,” she said. She lifted her head, and looked at him. “I’ve been all in for a while, Queens.”

Peter smiled again, and brushed a curl out of her eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed, “me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we deserve a vacation, don't y'all? Let's take a week, and then revisit the Quadrivium as they take a vacation of their own. Once we've seen that, we can talk about what's next for the "It Gets Worse!" Universe.
> 
> An Addition:  
Please help by responding to the Google Forms linked below. Thank you.   
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